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D 


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T^j'-:'"- 


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The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
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Un  de«  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derni*re  image  da  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
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symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  etre 
film*s  ^  des  taux  de  reduction  diff*rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  etre 
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de  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite. 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


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Ai»THOR   S.  BOURINOT 


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NATIONAL  LIBRARY 
'  BIBLIOTHtCiUE  NATIONALE 


Offcrt  par 


Estate   of 
Arthur  S.    Bourinot 


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I 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 


POEMS 


By  Tom   Mclnnes 


American  Edition 


BROADWAY     PUBLISHING    CO. 
NEW  YORK  AND  B  A  L  T I M  O  R  F 

835  Broadway  1722  N.   Calven 


m«»«»l>iwtiiiH»t«> 


-'Jl'i 


162032 


Copyright,  igio^ 

By 
TOM  McINNES. 


fyw  1  »«»■  }  »<yr»«»«^»  »«« 


«»W««Ml*H«t«mM«U«tWW*»ltt»W*HHtWtf! 


*« 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Way  of  Beauty 7 

An    Inkling 8 

.Lonesome    Bar 9 

"^   In    Errantry 29 

The  Damozel  of  Doom 30 

>The  Rhyme  of  Jacques  VMbeau 43 

/^   The  Gardens  of  Tao 63 

October 73 

The  Veteran 74 

Coquitlam 75 

That    Other   One 76 

Hard  Times  No  More 79 

Mother 8t 

The  Dream  of  the  Deep 83 

The   Seer 86 

The    Butterfly 87 

Nirvana 9' 

Illumined 9^ 

The   Clue 97 

^dgar  Allan   Poe 98 

^Jlewild 99 

JHie  Jewel  That  Came IM 

-Nocturne '03 

yThc  Wanton  Yacht 106 


^^vi^^    ,1: 


u*****^^^***^**,.^^- 


^■■* 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Farewell 108 

^^'lic   Arbor  Arabesque 1 10 

^'Jhe  WroPK   Way I16 

Oil    I'xacon    Hill 121 

O  Catiatia 130 

Tlic   Chilcoot    Pass 132 

Cactus 140 

To  Walt  Whitman 147 

>4.oiie  Wolf  Lament 151 

^XZhinatown   Chant 154 

'     Red    Lauf^luer 157 

The  Moonlit  Wheat l6l 

Fey 164 

In   Amber   Lands 169 

Yolana 175 

Underground 178 

.Jill 186 

/^   -Broken  Days 191 

y^    Content 197 

The  T  mb 198 

The  Last  Song 199 


!*Mit*ft*MH'r>>t>*-r**«**««»4t*444«(t»»fr 


In  Amber  Lands 


THE  WAY  OF  BEAUTY. 

Who  brinj^s  a  thought  of  self  to  Beauty's  shrine, 
Or  jealous  envy,  by  so  much  the  less 
Shall  feel  within  his  soul  her  deep  impress — 

Shall  thrill  at  quaffinfj  of  her  mystic  wine. 

For  Beauty  hath  no  care  for  thine  or  mine, 
But  wasteth  wide  in  xvanton  loveliness ; 
And  only  thus,  in  self-forgetfulness, 

Shall  anv  share  with  her  the  life  divine. 


O  happy  he  whose  heart  doth  full  respond 

To  wandering;  Beauty's  spvll — wherever  wrought! 
He  hath  a  pleasure  finer  than  all  thought 

That  instant  as  the  touch  of  fairy  wand 

Makes  rich  the  World  for  him.  whate'er  his  lot, — 

E'en  tho'  perchance  a  homeless  vagabond. 


*«*MMMMUatt>**t«  t 


it«M 


8 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


AN  INKLING. 

Thro'  my  uncertain  heart  a  moody  tide 

Of  mere  emotion  evermore  doth  steal, 

Fleckt  with  shining  passions  that  appeal 
For  solace  that  is  evermore  denied. 
But  as  tlic  waters  that  elusive  <,dide 

Thro"  lonely  forests  doubtful  yet  reveal 

Some  Ocean  faith— so  unafraid  I  feel 
To  test  with  Death  this  heart  unsatisfied. 

And  from  that  tide  thro'  late  haphazard  vears 

I've     jiather'd     cryslall'd     words     sometimes — like 

these : 
Things  marvell'd  out  from  many  memories; — 

I'jicaimy  songs,  wherein  withal  one  hears 
Some  overtone  of  happier  melodies. 

Or  rhythm  falling  from  enchanted  spheres. 


>u*»f  •%•••«»•«•  »4«*wr« 


,.»..iiMW>»f5 


IX  ami;ek  lands 


LONESOME  P.AR. 


I. 


Out  of  tlio  Xnrtli  there  rriiT^  a  rrv  of  Gdld » 
And  all  the  -^paciniis  rc.:;ioiis  (if  the  West, 
I'mrn  nii^.U*^'"'  t'arihovi  to  where  the  crest 
(If  Mexican  Sierras  mark  the  old 
l"ranci>ean  frontiers,  caught  the  re^^l  sound, 
And  echi'M  and  re-echo'd  it,  till  round 
The  ea;^er  World  the  rnnior  of  it  roHM  : 
How  I-"Morado  once  attain  wa^  found 
Where  -trttrli  ( 'aiiadian  ])lain^,  forlorn  aiul  rude, 
Hard  u])on  the  irt)n-tcmpcr'd  Arctic  solitude. 


II. 

Then  woke  the  vanmiard  of  advctiturers. 
Who  fret  their  --oiiN  aL;ain-t  tlie  tranimel'd  ways 
And  ineasur'd  hours  of  these  exactinsj;  davs; 
The\  heard  the  call — the  jiiratc  call  that  stirs 
To  reach  for  ea-y  ^old  in  re,t::ions  new  ; 
That  once  from  lazy  I.atin  cities  drew 
Pizarro  and  his  pious  plunderers, 
And.  later,  many  a  hnccancerinc;^  crew 
To  ^ail  their  curly  sliijis  across  the  foam 
And  loot  the  Spanish  galleons  upon  llic  run  for  liome. 


fmextat 


mmmmm^ 


lO 


I\    A.\li:i:U    LANDS 


rii. 

So  r.'ikc  the  annnl-  r.f  the  knave  Romance — 
'riic  lireul  wiH  nnt  die  (cit  I     'llu-  fatal  stars 
That  ^\\:i\   ih.'  line  of  Ino-e   Irrej^uilars 
ICrevernidfe  'nain^t  hazard  eircum-tance. 
lilnininM  thm  th' -r  trij.k'  ^"iMen  years 
A  trail  of  -plendid  Imju-  and  t;liastly  fears, 
W'lure  (iiilv  iidw  Aiirora  i,dearn'-  a-kanrc 
(  )n  the  twinislinLr  fm-ted  hone's  ni  piimeer'^; 
iSut  it'^  In!  for  -^axaiLje  lands  alii,dit  with  >i)oil — 
For  ventinx--  L;rini  and  trea^ure-truve  on  a  >tark,  un- 
licard-uf  soil  I 


rv. 

And  T  went  with  the  crowd  who  took  the  trail 
Over  the  irv  Cliileoot;  >ide  bv  side 
Who  t!i",-:"d  and  toilM  and  topp'd  the  White  Divide, 
Rafted  it  {<<  Tauii-li.  and  -et  ^ail 
Down   the  ra])ii!   ^'nkon  lone:  hcforc 
The  main  rn>h  reachM  the  mine^.     ■Twa>  no  more 
To  me  than  some  mw  t;ame  <if  liead-and-tail 
Tu  i^amhlc  on  ;  hnt  we  drank  fkep.  and  swore, 
Aronnd  npronriou--  camp  fire--,  tliat  w  e"d  find 
Onr  fortunes  on  the  Klondike  creek  or  leave  our  bones 
behind. 


V. 

Bnt  .th.cre  wa'^  n  hoodoo  on  nic  from  the  first; 
Tho'  everywhere  F  saw  the  yellow  j^dance 


no 


-1, ...,., 


l»H<«t«>Ti 


tiuLi  ttMiiiiUUHumm  »i***»*<*^*9ft ' 


ix  AMiW'R  r.Axns 


II 


I-ocatincj  claiin^ ;  the  lu't.  nui-(|uit(>-ciirst 
Aii'l  ~ciir\y  (Ia\^  wi'iit  cm|)i\ -handed  by, 
Xi'  niattrr  what   I'd  do  or  v.hirc  IM  try; 
And  (.'very  day  in  I)a>^inL^  -t.cin'd  tlic  wor^t, 
I 'mil  the  la>t  day  fa<lid  from  the  -ky, 
And  the  !"n,L,^  iiux'irahle  Xis^ht  liad  conic, — 
Inlocked   witii  ei  Id,  and  weird  stars,  and  <himh  as  a 
corpse  i:-  (Until). 

VI. 

I  work'd  a  while  that  Winter  on  a  lay; 
Sixtv  Ih'Iow.  and  ^leejjinjT  in  snow-hank'd  tents, — 
Say.  tliat  \\a>  the  iiardi)an  of  e\[)erience ! 
Jn^t  earning  en<iu^li  to  live,  and  make  a  play 
On  some  infernal  card  that  never  won; 
Or  ea'-y  by  some  dance-hall  beanty  done 
I"or  all  the  du>t  1  had — *,nu  know  the  wav  : 
Snow-blind  once,  once  frozen  to  the  bone. 
While  nui'^hini;  with  the  mails  between    'le  creeks; 
Then  tyiihoid  laid  me  on  my  back  delirious  for  weeks. 


VII. 

The  river  ice  was  breakinj^  in  the  Sprinj» 
When  first  1  heard  them  tell  of  Lonesome  Bar, — 
A  hag.cfard  region  hidden  in  the  far 
Blank  reaches  of  the  Xortli  pa'^t  reckoningf. 
But  the  Sun  was  warm  apain,  'twa^;  afternoon, 
And  I  was  louni^inc;  in  the  I.oc;  .^.alocjn. 
Ready  to  tnrn  my  hand  to  anything:, 
\\  lien  in  two  :  trangcr,  canic  a iih  a  talc  that  soon 


-i:-''4 


*?"' 


m 


mi 


12 


IX  .\.mi;i:r  i.axds 


Drew  round  the  rc-tlcs-  cro\v<l.  forcvi-r  fond 
Of  newer  strike-,  and  farther  fields,  and  the  hick  of 
things  beyond. 

VIM. 

And  well  within  an  hour  the  ni^h  bcpan, 

I-'or  the  --tranf^ers  spoke  of  fortunes  in  a  day; 

Carek'ss  showM  us  nuLrp^tts  that  would  weiph 

A  pound  or  more.  ;ind  told  Imw  every  man 

At  Lone-ome  liar  had  sacks  of  them,    .^^tampedei 

Already  the  sleds  are  out,  and  the  hu-kies  lead, 

I'neasy  at  their  tracis.  in  the  van. 

And  yelpinp  'tjainst  the  time  the  packers  nee  1 : 

Stamjiede!     Stampede!     All  hangs  on  the  moment's 

ha-te.— 
And  it's  every  man  and  dog  for  himself  on  the  endless 

Arctic  waste ! 


IX. 

Rut  the  fcvc"  shook  mc  still  in  every  bone; 
Times  I'd  feel  my  legs  bend  under  me, 
And  every  sinew  loosen  utterly  ; 
.And  so  I  foil  behind.     Yet  all  alone 
I  mush'd  along  for  a  month  as  best  T  could, 
.And  every  mile  I  made  was  to  the  good. 
l"or  the  trail  of  those  ahead  in  the  bleak  unknown 
I'd  savvy  enough  to  keep.     At  last  T  stood 
Dne  day  on  a  rocky  bluff,  outworn  and  weak, 
And  saw  beneath  me  Lonesome  Bar,  at  the  bend  of 
Roulder  C!reek. 


IN  ami',i:r  lands 


13 


X. 

Ah!  well  I  mind  the  (.vcr.in^'  that  I  came! 

The  month  \va^  Juiu'.  nii^ii  ripcnM  to  July, 

An<l  tlu'  hour  \\a>  tiiidnij^ht.  \((  tin-  Northern  sky 

I'>om  the  horizontal  Sun  was  ail  atlame. 

When  with  my  cm])ty  pack  1  sauntered  down 

The  one  l<»n)^f  tented  street  that  made  the  town, 

Huntjry  and  >ii.k — -ick  of  a  'o>intj  jjame. 

And  hroke   for   tiie  |)rice  of  a   whiskey-straight  to 

drown 
The  rat:L,'ed  tlioui,dits  adimjiinij  thro'  my  hrain — 
Till  I  -aw  a  crowd  ami  went  hoide  to  hear  what  news 

again. 

XI. 

.And  t!iere  was  a  gaunt  old  ruffian,  shaggy-brow'd, 
WIio  on  a  l)arrcl.  as  far  a-  I  coidd  tell, 
Ranted  in  <lrunken  ec.-tasy  of  1  kll ! 
They  suited  well  his  theme — that  Klondike  crowd: 
Men  dogg'd  hy  sIkuIows  of  de-pair  and  crime, 
With  wornen  reckless  of  all  aftertime ; 
Miners,  traders,  villains  unavow'd. 
And  nondescript  of  every  race  and  clime; 
With  the  red  police  of  Canada  beside — 
For  they  keep  tab  on  everything  clear  down  to  the 
Arctic  tide. 


r 


XII. 


But  Hell!    What  u=e  had  T  for  Hell  that  night? 
And  sullen  I  turn'd  away,  when  I  felt  a  whack 

Ffr\rr*    o     r!PTV^»    ^-^r^n*^     K'^*-**!    xr^/--^*^    *-^m,    Kn^l* 
'•-•tii    d   HCUVj    •_'^"^:i    ::aiiM    ;.:^."..ii    2::^     Udurv, 


I  MJ-. 


^i.^u.Ui    imiiaiB^ 


lip 


mt 

MMUiAlii 


M 


IX  ,\.mi'.f:r  i.WDS 


Ati'I,  turnint,'  ([nick,  my  doulitfui  eyes  caii<:jlit  ^ight 
(  if  a  cmIU';^'!'  clirm  (if  iiiiiir — oiu'  jnlim  K^v — 
Whom  I'd  lint  ^iiii  for  \i'ars.    Giri^t  I  'twas  joy 
'In  see  tlie  face  of  liim  ayain.  and  quite 
In  Iii->  old  way  to  hear  him  >.a\ ,    '(  )ld  hoy! 
^'ou're   ilown   on   your   luck    I    see!     Cuinc  on   up 

town. 
Where  we  can   talk   and  have  snmethint,'  to  cat,  and 

sonicthiu}^  to  wa-h  it  down!" 


XIII. 

'Twas  hkc  the  ■-udden  diiiiinc,'  of  the  Sun! 
The  f1ower>i  forgotten  of  old  fellow-hip 
Went  all  ahloom  aL,^■^iu, — there  >;i.em'd  to  slip 
A  weitjht  of  waited  years  and  deed-  ill-done 
IMumh  down  and  out  of  my  life,  with  chance  to  try 
The  ujiward  trail  ;i!^aiti.  where  he  and  I 
Could  venture  yet  tlie  hit^hest  to  he  won. 
Coi'.ld   let  the   very  thoufjht  of   failure  die, 
And  weave  into  our  live<.  from  ravell'd  ways, 
That  cord  of  t^Mjld  wc  talk'd  ahout  in  the  far-off  col- 
lege days. 


XIV. 

For  Julien  was  a  gentleman  all  through ; 

He  stak'd  me  then,  when  I  ha<l  not  a  cent, 

Braced  me  up  and  shared  with  mo  his  tent, 

Anil  help'd  in  every  way  a  friend  could  do. 

As  to  the  fortune  that  is  our-  to-day, 
T    .*..,,,i,!„  I  „.,  u  :.,  .!,„  ,1 _.. 


I.\    AMI'.IU    I.WDS 


IS 


That  all  tliiriL,'s  cuw  U)  iiu- :  f  cut  in  two 
Tlic  Iil<ilii'-t  clriim  f  fn'iinl.  ak'.l   julc  to  stav, 
Ami  work  it  with  iiu'.  >liarc  ntnl  share  alike. — 
And   in  a  iiiotitii  at   Ldnc-oiuf   liar  'twas   rank'd  the 
richest  strike. 

XV. 

One  day  T  left  him  workinq;  on  the  claim, 
I  had  to  huy  siij)pli(  „  down  at  the  I?ar. 
When  passint,'  hv  the  <Iaiue-!i  dl  Alcazar, 
Topmost  on  its  hoard  I  rearl  a  name, 
"I'.enlah.  the  Siniiin-  l.irl!"'     The  loser  liRhts, 
The  I)ot,'an«.  with  ( )'icsit\   in  tij^'hts. 
.And  the  hoiKlc-s  Acrohat — same  old  jjamc — 
'I  was  n'lt  fur  tluni  I  sta\'d.  tior  clownish  sights, 
Rut  I  wanted  to  hear  a  s,,nt,' — a  sonp  to  make 
The  feel  of  yotm-er  days  omw  hack  until  wy  heart 
should  ache. 


x\i. 

Something  went  wron^j  with  mo  that  ni.t,dit.  I  know; 
And  yet  "fore  (lo.I  I  would  nut  s.t  it  rii,dit 
For  all  the  North  and  all  its  'j;,,h\  in  sight! 
White  shf  was  all  over,  like  the  sunw 
That  on  the  tjlacirr  in  the  moonh\dit  lies. 
And  lissome  as  a  j)anther  when  it  spies 
Its  quarry  where  the  fore-t  branches  low; 
f'.ut  the  luring  of  her  deen-illuminM  eyes. 
And  voice  voluptuo-is  with  all  desire, 
And  somewliat  else  beyond  all  that  fair  set  my  soul  on 
fire. 


'♦■umjiiMMtnntmi 


-f" 


at 


-*«*■«*  »^*nWMW  TT>»V  «<H>  j«fc»v<  - 


I6 


IX    AMBER    LANDS 


XVII. 

For  P.eulali  ^tinv;  a  l)alla(l  to  mc  then. 
Of  pcrilou-  tunc,  -o  ])nt  to  velvet  rime, 
'Twa-^  sure  the  kind  tliat  sirens  in  old  time 
Sanf^  from  tiic  weedy  rocks  to  sailor-men; 
And  all  the  while  her  eyes  >hone  splendidly 
At  somethinj^  far  too  fine  for  us  to  see ; 
Ihit  oh!  at  endinij:  of  the  hallad,  when 
Those  eves  sank  do\'. n  to  rt-t  alone  on  me, 
Full  well  for  one  such  j^lance  of  hers  I  knew 
Fd  tip  niv   hat  to  her  command  for  all  that   a  mz 
may  do. 


XVIII. 

And  so  cnamor'd  on  the  instant  cjrown. 
I  s])ran,s:  to  meet  her  when  the  sont:;  was  done; 
She  met  me  wondrou>  kind  ;  then  one  hy  one 
The  otliers  drew  a-iile,  while  we.  alone, 
Crush'd  from  the  mi->nunts,  in  our  eagerness, 
A  wine  of  many  year-^,  as  one  would  press 
Sudden  the  ripen'd  |c;rape-.     .\li !  we  had  known. 
In  some  strange  way  tliat  I'm  too  oUl  to  guess, 
A  dream  of  life  hetween,  1  know  not  how, 
That  link'd  her  alien  soul  to  mine  with  a  dream  oi 
lasting  vow ! 

XIX. 

You  know  how  goes  the  custom  of  the  Camp ; 
How  swif;  the  wooing  where  the  pace  is  set 
To  live  all  in  tiic  hour— and  then  forget! 


.  t  ««v.«% 


IN    AMBRR    LANDS 


17 


a  man 


ne; 


own. 

less, 


am  out- 


l- 
et 


Tl'e  initlnic^ht  moon  -lion'j  pale,  like  an  onyx  lamp 
Ilunc^  in  the  amhiT  tuilij^ht  of  the  >ky. 
When  we  wont  fnrth  tdi^ether,  she  and  T. 
And  open'd  yellow   wine,  who>e  yellow  stamp 
\\»m  lii.iih  aiJiiroval  from  the  ra-cal>  dry 
Who  pledg'd  us  o'er  and  o'er,  npon  the  chance 
To  waste   in   regions   barharous   that   vintage   Oi   old 
I'rance. 


XX. 

The  fir-t  ones  of  tlic  North  still  tell  of  it: 
That  was  tlie  tii^^ht  the  Lucky  Swede  made  bold 
To  liiii  for  r.eulah  all  her  weii^ht  in  j:!;old ; 
And  when,  from  mere  caprice,  my  side  she  quit, 
And  challenged  him  to  make  the  offer  cjood. 
With  iron  ])ans  and  a  heam  ami  a  chunk  of  wood 
A  rouLjh-ainl-ready  balance  soon  was  fit. 
And  the  Swede  brought  uj)  his  gold  where  Beulah 

stood. 
And  'gainst  her  weight  upon  the  other  scale 
He  piled   his  buckskin   sacks,   while   I — saw   red,  but 

watch'd  the  sale. 


XXI. 

In  all  my  life  T  never  felt  so  broke; 
T'ut  when  the  balance  quiver'd  cvenlv. 
She  threw  a  ki<s  to  him — and  came  to  me. 
And  my  heart  went  all  a-tf'cmble  as  she  spoke : 
"Ole,  you're  a  sport  all  right — for  a  Swede ! 


li 


:**mm«mAUHM  wtiMt«  i  t«.mtM;*i 


i8 


IX   AMBER   LANDS 


Rut  I  think  t!ii=  Snurdoiit^li  here'--  the  man  I  need; 
I  only  play'd  to  leave  him  for  a  joke; 
Let's  cnl!  it  off — and  the  drink,  on  me!     Agreed?" 
Since  then  for  me  there's  hecn  no  otiier  girl — 
And  all  tlie  hoys  shook  hands  on  it,  and  things  began 
to  whirl. 

xxir. 

And  it's  something  worth,  even  in  memory, 
To  linL:  r  thro"  those  ample  ''.ours  again. 
It  may  not  he  the  -ame  with  other  men, 
But  clear  <>n  the  tojimost  wave>  of  revelry 
The  soul  of  lue  was  lifted  cool  and  clean; 
Silent  T  felt  the  >urge  of  what  had  heen : 
Careless  I  weigh'd  the  evil  yet  to  he : — 
Then    Beulah's   arms   closed   warm   and    v.hite   be- 
tween. 
And  I  let  go  of  all  in  her  embrace. 
And  for  a  time  escaped  from  Time  and  the  latitudes 
of  Space. 


xxiir. 

And  the  la^t  was  a  sen^e  of  sound — a  trcmulo, 
So  vagrant,  sweet  ami  Inw.  'twas  like  the  thin. 
Continual  twinkling  tune  of  a  mandolin 
To  mellow-tone.'  guitars  in  Mexico. 
Where  kners  seek  the  i)laza  by  the  sea ; 
And  the  foaming  breakers  phosphorescently 
Come  rolling  in  bcneatli  the  moon  as  tbo' 
The  influence  of  her  yellow  witchery 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


19 


Into  the  purple  darkness  off  the  Main 
Had    sunken,    sunken,    drunken    down    hke    limitless 
champagne. 

XXIV. 

Slowly  I  woke.     TIic  last  of  t!ic  stars  had  fled : 
Only  beside  me  I'crlah  murmur'd  "Stay!" 
And  ki-^'d  nic.  sleepy-eyed.     lUit  early  day 
Chills  all  of  that  somehow;  1  tnrned  instead, 
Thiiikinn;'  to  ka   e  her  dreamin;,',  I  confess; 
Yet  even  in  ti;.     gray  light  her  loveliness, 
.And  certain  drowsy  dulcet  wonl-  -lie  said, 
riiarni'd  my  I'.eart  to  lier-  in  a  Inst  caress — 
Chained    if   xcu   like,    and   clinch'd    with   a    parting 

smile — 
Yes — but   what  have  you    found  in   the  round  of  the 

world  so  well  worth  while? 


XXV. 

Far  up  a  valley,  wliere  the  summe  •-nil> 
Long  ages  thro'  the  L^lacial-drilt  have  roll'd, 
I  work'd  in  gravel  studded  thick  with  gold 
For  days  and  days  on  the  double-shift  that  kills. 
Yet  oft,  to  hear  the  echoes  ring  ami  stir 
That  vacant  valley  like  a  dulcimer, 
I  flung  her  name  aga'n>t  the  naked  hills. 
.And  crimson 'd  all  the  air  with  thoughts  of  her; 
While  'mong  the  fair  returning  stars  I'd  see 
Pale  i.'-anton.s  of  her  chill,  sweet  face  receding  end- 
lessly, 


^'  **'***»it»»M*ttt**tH*%*taftm*»^**t — ; 


■K 


^^. 


20 


IN    AMDER    LANDS 


XXVI. 

Till  I  could  stand  the  pull  of  it  no  more ; 
T,  who  as  a  fool  knew  every  phase 
Of  woman'-  li.nhtcr  love,  and  love's  lij^ht  ways, 
Had  felt  no  passion  like  to  this  before. 
As  the  lost  drunkard's  lont^^intr  at  its  worst, 
And  keen  as  the  craving  of  the  opium-curst. 
Was  the  elcmentrd  lust  tliat  overbore 
My  very  body  till  it  gasp'd  athirst, 
As  one  in  some  fierce  desert  'lying  dreams 
Of  snowy   peaks  and  valleys   green   with   unavailing 
streams. 


xxvir. 

And  Julien,  good  old  Julien,  knowing  all, 

Pretended  not  to  know,  but  said  he  guess'a 

That  T  had  overwork 'd  myself,  and  best 

Lay  off  a  spell  in  town.    Then  I  let  fall 

My  useless  tools,  and  wash'd  and  got  in  trim 

For  the  long  ten  miles  ahead.     The  trail  was  slim, 

And   crawl'd   at   times   'gainst   some   sheer  granite 

wall. 
Or  lost  itself  'mong  boulders  huge  and  grim; 
But  dreaming  of  her  T  pick'd  a  buoyant  way, 
Descending  easy  to  the  Bar  at  ending  of  the  day. 


XXVIII. 


That  region  was  abandon'd  years  ago. 
And  T  onrsnme  Bar  is  to  the  wild  again, 
Yet  still  it  haimts  me  as  I  saw  it  then : — 


i 


IB-  -  :5r.'  «4;^v-r  .-«TiTPivr^rf;->f -11.-7I'  •p"'!  •-•^,  _  y^ •  rriM^ 


L\    AMBER   LANDS 


ai 


Far  up  in  the  banncrM  West  a  crimson  glow. 
And  a  silver  crescent  on  its  e(lp;e  aslant. 
With  jewcIlM  \'enus  sinkintj  jubilant 
Thro'  (ipa!  -paces  of  the  vault  below; 
Then  qoblin  rocks  and  waterfalls  and  ^cant 
Green  tamarac  around  the  white  marquee 
Where   Beulah   lodq'd — and  there  was  ending  of  the 
trail  for  me. 


1^ 


XXIX. 

Kudintj  of  the  trail — for  she  was  there! 
'^.I['h-Iike  1  >aw  her  fissure  thro'  the  haze 

de  nt  the  t\\ilii,du  and  the  camp-fire  blaze; 
And  the  pincy  odors  passing  thro'  the  air 
So  pure  I  took  for  random  kisses  blown 
From  her  red  mouth  to  mine,  while  yet  unk-nown 
My  whereal out: ;  then  wholly  unaware 
I  itcle  upon  her  standing  there  alone. 
And  sudden  the  was  mine  without  appeal, 
And  lip  to  lip   .vithin  my  arms  made  all  my  fancies 
real. 


XXX. 

Shall  I  forjict  the  words  sju-  said  to  me? 
Xa\-.  I  bclicv'd  tlieiu — I  believe  them  yet! 
She  told  me  how  she  dream'd  that  we  had  met 
Where  dreams  are  true ;  and  then  how  endlessly, 
I-ike  some  lost  dove,  she  roamed  this  evil  world 
Seeking  for  me :  how  now  her  winjrs  were  furl'd, 
And  I  should  bide  with  her.  till  I  should  see 


22 


IX    AMBER    LANDS 


This  whitest  secret  in  her  soul  impcarlM : 
And  lier  '•ont^s  were  all  for  me.  I  heard  her  say, — 
For  me,  for  mc  and  only  me,  forever  and  a  day ! 

XXXI. 

Then  pass'  ,  the  last  good  hours  I  ever  knew; 

I  lit  my  pipe,  sat  on  a  log.  and  look'd 

At  her  and  her  neat  hands  that  neatly  cook'd 

A  supptr  hot  and  homely— just  for  two; 

And  out  in  Cod'-  clean  air.  he-idc  the  fire. 

Where  comrade  ways  but  strcn^thcnM   Love's  d( 

sire. 
We  ma<le  it  up  to  marry  then  for  true. 
And  I  thout;ht  how  all  my  life  I'd  ncvt-r  tire 
Of  loving  her,  her  eyes,  her  voice,  her  form, 
Her  charm  of  something  unrevcal'd   forever   youn 
and  warm. 


XXXII. 

But  at  last,  a?  night  drew  on,  she  rose  and  said : 
"I'd  talk  with  you  till  dawn.  dear,  if  talk 
Could  hold  my  audience  or  charm  the  clock, 
lUn  I  mustn't  miss  my  turn,  so  come  ahead!" 
D(  An  at  the  theatre  the  crowd  was  thin. 
Perbaixs  two  score,  no  more,  as  we  went  in ; 
But  the  manager  was  hanging  out  his  red 
Big-lencr'd  signal  lantern  to  begin. 
When  from  the  street,  crescendo,  came  a  roar. 
Nearer  and  still  nearer,  till  it  rcach'd  the  dancc-h: 
uoor. 


IX    AMBER    LANDS 


23 


e  s 


dc- 


XXXIII, 

Bciilah  stood  ready  on  the  stage,  and  the  black 

Profc^^or  at  tlic  crack'd  piano  play'd 

Hi-  overture  twice  tliroiij^li,  but  no  one  sta''d. 

So  I  joined  in  where  all  were  crourlin^'  haek 

To  where  the  row  wa>  on.    '"Speech.  .Mac. -pCLcli '" 

They  cried,  a?  up  the  aisle  they  rush'd  to  reach 

Where    Beulah    .-toed,    confused.      "It's     IiLllfire 

Mac!" 
I    \^•hi^pcr'd   her,   "and  he's   drunk   and  wants   to 

preach  I" 
"W'h.'it  I  why,  -ure — whoever  he  is — come,  dear. 
That  ht-  nic  off  tor  a  while,  you  know;  come  on — 

conic  on  in  here! 


youns 


XXXIV. 


aid: 


ir. 
nce-hall 


And  laughinc:  --oftly  she  drew  me  aside 
Into  a  rouc'i  alcove,  her  drcssin.c:  room, 
Curtain'd  from  the  stage,  and  half  in  gloom. 
When  at  a  sound  hir  eves  'gan   ^tarin^  wide. 
And   she   clutch'd   my   arm.     Twas   iu*t   the   pious 

drone. 
But  a  fear.-ome  something  in  the  undertone 
Of  the  ruin'd  Cnlvini-t.  whose  sr-nl  c-iiied 
Damnation  tonpHiig  from  the  great  White  Throne 
I''pon  t!-e  w(K'f;il  habiters  of  Farth, 
That    somehow   check 'd    the    crowd    that    night,   and 
still'd  its  shallow  mirth. 


I 


il 


.*«*MIM4> 


24 


IN'  ami5i:r  i.axds 


XNXV. 

And  Bculali,  ninrc  than  all  like  one  cnthrnllM. 

Smotlicr'fl  a  moan,  and  diiinhly  nicMioniiij^ 

I"or  nic  to  follow,  croj)t  into  t!ic  win^j 

Close  lip  to  hiiii.     Hcardcd.  j^ray  and  l)aM. 

\\  itii  eyes  Mink  .t,'l«'aininL.'  under  l>eofIin-   diaj,', 

And  face  rousli-chiHl'd  likr  a  si^ranit"  cra^. 

Tie  tower'd  above  us  all;  hut  <o  appall'd 

He   seem'd   that   -carce   hi-^   drunken   tongue   could 

drat,' 
Meet  wor.N  to  inalcli  his  .t,diaqly  fantaMrs. 
Vet   I   remember   some  in   Gaelic  accnit^   drawn   like 

these : 

xxxvr. 

"Last  night,  my    friens,   she  drcampt  she  was:,  a 
?nake, 

rrodigious  as  wa>s  ncfer  seen  before: 
Ha.  ta  Mac  an  Diaoul !— ta  Eei.-hra-Mor  I 
For  wlien  she  moved  .he  made  ta  mountains  quake, 
And  all  ta  water.s  of  ta  oceans  roll 
In  frij^htnet  waves  from  Pole  to  frozen  Pole; 
While  efcrmore  her  starving,'  bodyM  ache 
So  bitterly  ta  pain  she  couldna  thole, 
r-iit  twiMit  round  and  round,  till  ^he  wa.  eurl'd 
In  endless  coils  of  blastit  flesh  about  ta  blastit  World. 


XXXVII. 


"For  in  those  dav^  she  wass  ta  only  thin?; 
There  wass  no  man  nor  w  oman  left  at  all ; 


IX  a.mi;i:r  lands 


as 


No  fish  to  swim,  no  hi  a-t  to  run  or  crawl, 
No  hirrl  nnr  Iinttfilly  \i  -iircad   it-  winpf; 
Around  ta  W'orM  licr-ilf  was>  all  aloin'. 
For  all  that  cfrr  lived  to  her  had  cjrown ; 
And  Winter,  tiiat  would  m  •'' riiiore  he  Sprinj^, 
Xow  plowert  silent  oft  r  efery  zon.  : 
Then  liftit  she  her  head  into  ta  -ky 
To  spit  ta  last  great  hla-phcniy  into  God'=  face — and 
die. 


XXWllI. 

"Dut  oh'  ta  silence  of  ta  endle-s  Sky — 
And  oil!  ta  liIackiKs-  if  fa  en-lle-s  Xi^^du  I 
Where  all  ta  siar-  can  nefer  make  it  li^ht — 
Where  in  ta  empt\,  like  a  Defd's  eye, 
Ta  eerie  Sun.  i^rown  sinall  and  smooth  and  cold, 
Stared  down  upon  Ikt  doom  ordain'd  of  old  I 
And  she  torment — and  she  cor.ldna  tell  tor  why — 
With  a,';onies  in  every  qrakinc;  fold. 
Where  only  flowit  i)oi.-on  streams  for  hlood  : 
And  still  she  liissM  and  spit  and  cur^t — and  itill  there 
wass  no  God ! 

XXXIX. 

"P>ut  at  ta  last  she  felt  ta  power  to  make 

Ta  j^reat  escape,  and  tliii  h  all  In  r  hurt; 

Ta  Spirit  moved  her.  and  lur  hocp-  i^irt 

Its  straininq;  coil-  imtil  ta  Worl  1  -lu'  l.'rake 

To   splinter'd   rocks  that   ground   and   cra-h'd   and 

roar'd. 
While  all  ta  inner  fires  reek'd  nn  and  nonr'd 


m 


I 


mtsttmummm 


26 


IN    AMBRR    LANDS 


In  fury  routifl  ta  universal  Snake — 
Omsiunint;  in  ta  vengeance  of  ta  Lord!" 
\Vc  noMT  iKard  tin-  iiicaiiiii^  of  his  «lrcain, 
For  sudden   thro'  the  ])uilthng   ran^'   a   wild  hysteric 
scream. 

XL. 

And  Beulah  sprincrinc;  frenzied  to  the  stage, 
And  the  oUl  mnn  haltinc^  face  to  face  w'th  her, 
Too  swift  an  1    tran'ro  for  any  tlu\atrc 
Follnw'd  a  -rcne  \vhn<c  measure  none  could  gauge, 
Oulv  we  felt  ii^  ni,i<l  reality. 

"Tlint  man's  my  i';itlur — keep  him  I^aik  from  me!" 
1  heard  her  cr\ .  while  hormr  hl'ni  wiUi  ra..,'e 
r])on  the  other'-  face.     "A  fn  tit  1  ^et! 
.\  dainnit  tkiit  of  Hell,  wdio  stole  my  name  I 
Dculah.  ta  iiarlot,  come  again  to  croas  my  face  with 
shame !" 

XLI. 

I  saw  the  old  man  grip  and  throttle  her ; 

r  saw  her  choking,  and  her  white  hand  dart 

Down    to    the    knife    that   flashed— and    found   his 

heart ! 
J  saw  him  reel  anil  fall — I  saw  the  hlur 
Of  hlood  that  gush'd  upon  her  heaving  hrcast 
Out  of  liis  own!     Ah,  Ciod.  how  qvick  the  rest! 
F.re  I  or  any  one  of  us  could  stir. 
Full  to  the  hilt  that  fatal  knife  -he  jires-'d 
Into  her  side,  that  ran  and  reek'd  with  red, 
Ai  she  fell  dead  upon  the  stage  where  lay  her  father 
dead. 


L\    AMl'.iiR    LANDS 


37 


XLII. 

Momenta  there  nrc  that  Rleam  beyonfl  all  Time! 
I'.l.mn  from  enonnnu-  \\nr^\    <)  uav.w  ihat  seems 
To  hearken  hack  thro*  va-ue  priiiicval  dr.anis! 
n  maid  renitiiihcrM    frciii  tlie  >onnK.  suhUnic. 
UntramnKlM  day:  when  GikI   lore-athcred  u~! 
Mv  ■•rinan  fti!!~c'ro\vn  ^trnn^'c!;-  perilous  I 
All  in  a  memoir,  r.iarr'd  'vith  .-carlct  crime, 
And  loet  before  '."nine  eye?  increthilou> ! 
Mv  wntii.-m  vtill— tlio'  [  i^o  hahiilini,'.  dazed 
At  thought  of  luT  an.l  her  fathir  damn'd.  aihl  a  Hell 
of  thill};-  ;;>'ne  crazed! 


XI. III. 

How  since  th;it  hour  a-aiii  and  yet  n'^MU 
I've  |)lav"d  ih:  fi'"l  \\'''~h  D.atl' !    ' ',.,  let  hitn  take 
What  -hapc  he  i  !'■  a  c.  I'll  ■.v:<'t  v.idc  awake. 
And  k?cr  a  date  ^  ith  hin— no  nvitter  when! 
>dad    I  tell  •  oil — mad.  I've  lar.ehcd  to  hear 
In  Winicrtimc  the  mad  gray-wolvej  draw  near 
And  circle  rniind  me.  all  unarm'd — and  tlun. 
Snai)j)in^'  thnr  teeth,  ^-linlc  back  and  IkuvI  with  fear: 
Cod  Knows  of  what!     Sn  qiu  er  it  seeni'd.  alnm-t 
I  think  thev  saw  he-ide  me  there  old  Helltire's  drunken 
ghost ! 


f> 


WAX. 


Lonesome  Bar!     To(j  far— too  far  and  old 
The  hollow  sound  of  it  now  comes  to  me 

O  QUlCKCn  lul6  biCK  near*,   iiiai  ;.:a.^;:jr 


*iitiiit>m  «•»«.«».«. 


^^l 


28 


IN  AMr.i:R  LA  A  us 


Goc<;  UircliiriK  on  tn  ivcrIa>-tinK  coM! 
I'ill  up  my  .ula-- !    What  i;anio  havr  I  to  play 
I'.ut  drink  into  {\n<  drt-ar,  indilTncnt  (Ia\ 
SfitiiL-  liritf  (Iclirintn.  wherein  to  liold 
A  jjliantuni  floatin;,'  ^'oldenly  away 
lUyopfl  tlu'  /cnitli  of  niy  --on!    a-  iiriglit 
Aiiiora  v/ith  her  dreanihght  haunts  the  hopeless  Arctic 
night ! 


IN  AMBER  rANDS 


IN  ERRANTRY. 


Because  I'm  drunken  with  unknown  nectars. 
From  ways  made  over-strait  I  turn;  in  sooth 
My  heart  is  only  half  inclin'd  to  truth 

Of  learned  scrolls  and  saintly  calendars: 

Bald  Science  misses,  and  Religion  mars 
What  I  have  found,  tho'  bluntlcring  and  uncouth, 
For  I  was  wronged  with  V\  onder  in  my  youth, 

Aad  dazed  with  visions  of  forbidden  Stars. 


I  was  a  minstrel  boy  in  errantry 
Roving  the  mossy  ways  of  old  Romance 
In  chase  of  Beauty,  whose  elusive  glance 

Thro'  hapless  ventures  lured  me  brokenly: 
But  now  of  her  I've  had  such  great  joyance 

That  this  dour  World  shall  never  sober  Jic. 


IT 


•«M«*«M«t- 


30 


IN   AMBER  LANDS 


THE   VAMPIRE. 
Pakt  I. 

I. 

Like  as  a  dream  it  came  to  me 
In  tlic  lap>e  of  a  lonely  year ; 

In  the  shade  of  night  I  saw  the  shade 
Of  a  shrouded  maid  appear; 

And  drawing  nigh  it  leaned  o'er  me, 
And  whisper'd  in  my  car : 


II. 

"Cold— colu ' 
I  come  from  the  ghastly  cold ! 
Where  the  dead  are  ever  dying 

Alone  in  the  ghastly  cold  I" 


in. 

And  then,  a^  if  an  agony 

Constrain'd  that  grr^some  haze. 
Its  words  come  forth  in  hollow  sighs, 

The  while  its  eyes  did  blaze 
Pale  lightnings  to  mv  own,  now  fix'd 

In 


i,,,i.^i-,.—  -1:-. 


■'f 


iiiic  .iiii; 


IX    AMBKR    LAXDS 


31 


IV. 

"I  ain  a  starvclint;  out  of  Hell. 

A  wrailli  <!f  tlic  rc-tU'^-^  ilcad. 
And  wlioncc  the  daiiniM  lie  liainn'd  the  most 

Mv  /iven  j^liost  hath  tied 
I'"or  lu-t  of  the  radiant  life  in  thee, 

And  the  fuiiie  of  thv  lieart  so  red! 


"I  hi-t  for  th\  ])\nru\  and  the  life  of  thy  blood 

lint   I  ]nvv  \h\    -mil  a-  well, 
I'or  {]'.<■  t'aine  '>f  it  lit  my  <>\\n  anew, 

Thi-  thinL,'  i-  true  1  trl!  ; 
And  t'u'  iicatinLT  of  ili\   heart  it  was 

That  !uo-'d  nie  out  of  Hell. 

"For  out  of  ti;e  -leep  I  cannot  sleep 

Thy  -onl  ua-  r.ms'd  au'ain  ; 
And  thy  hody  wa^  wrnui;ht  to  the  same  fair  mould 

.As  when  of  (il<l  'twa>  lain 
Within  the  (.lu>t  awa\   from  mc — 

The  hody  that  I  had  >lain. 

VII. 

"O  hlack  the  nii^ht  that  swallowM  me 

When  out  of  the  World  I  fell! 
Out  of  the  Worhl.  and  deep  eiitomb'd, 

I  fouml  me  do^ni'd  to  d\v!;!l 
\\'here  Time  i-  still  and  Horror  stares 

On  each — immovable. 


I 


>«arM<'MM 


32 


IX    AM  r.F.R    LANDS 


\  III. 

'Told— cold! 
Alone  in  the  i^l;a>tly  cold  ! 
Where  the  dead  are  ever  dvint^ 

Alone  in  the  c^ha>tly  cold ! 

IX. 

"Nay.  li'-ten!    T  heard  like  far-nfT  -nunds 
Swav  down  thro'  the  lees  of  crime; 

And  ijohlen  was  their  echoins:;-. 
They  seeni'd  to  rint.,^  a  chime 

Or  words  I  said — of  love  I  felt — 
Long  since — in  the  other  time. 


"And  cchointj  they  took  a  shape. 

And  circled  round  and  round 
As  air\.  elemental  elve--. 

Then  joined  them-elves  and  wound 
In  wrcathintx  ether  over  mo, 

And  with  a  crystal  sound 


XI. 

"The  circle  touch'd  complete  and  flash'd 

And  vanish'd  suddenly: 
And  Time  heoran  attain — I  foimd 

Myself  unhound  and  free — 
Free  of  the  ■-ilent  Horror  there 

That  stared  and  -tared  at  me. 


IN    AMIiKR    LANDS 


33 


XII. 

"Anfl  I  was  in  the  outer  night, 
And  I  'ioufjht  and  found  thee  here; 

I  saw  thy  t>ody  from  afar 
As  a  hving  star  appear, 

And  fain  to  drink  and  sUmibcr  in 
Its  crimson  atmosphere — " 

XIII. 

No  other  word  came  auchhle, 

The  siiade  '.^an  witheringf, 
As  to  my  cold  and  sliuddering'  side 

Jt  vainly  tried  to  clinc;; 
Then  drifted  slow  away  from  me, 

A  wastint^,  wistful  thing. 

XIV. 

Until  in  tlie  ec-i?  light  at  last 

I  saw  it  fadf'  and  seem 
To  sink  as  it  were  thro'  an  ancient  grave, 

And  sinking  it  gave  a  scream ; 
And  I  awoke  and  tried  to  think 

'Twas  but  a  passing  dream. 


XV. 

Cold— cold ! 
And  are  the  dead  so  cold? 
And  are  they  ever  dying 

Alone  in  the  ghastlv  cold? 


34 


IN    AMBEf^    LAXDS 


Part  II. 


That  dream  came  not  aj^ain  to  me, 

Xor  .'iny  dream  at  all ; 
Dut  \\i  II  I  knew,  as  the-  days  went  past, 

TIuTf  Ii(.Id  1110  fa-t  in  thrall 
A  s()incthin<r  cjf  that  shrouded  thintr 

That  wrapped  me  like  a  pall. 

II. 

An  aura  drear  that  siver'd  me 
From  men  and  the  \va\s  of  men; 

As  some  i^rcat  evil  I  had  done 
My  friends  did  >luin  mc  then; 

I  felt  accurst,  and  kept  apart, 
And  souj^ht  them  n.  <{  ag-ain. 

in. 

riut  n  how  chill  the  World  did  i,rrow ! 

Aiul  the  .'^un.  as  a  thint^  unreal. 
Did  -ilare  and  .^[lare  thro'  the  vacant  day, 

An<!  never  a  rav  I'd  feel 
To  warm  my  hlood.  the  liirht  fell  thin 

And  t,^ray  as  spectral  steel. 

IV. 

A  pale  di'^ea^e  tonk  hold  on  me. 
And  when  the  nii^lit  would  come 


IMff^^mi 


IN    AMPJ-R    L.\.\i;S 

I  had  no  rc^t,  but  sleepless  lay 
As  stark  a-  clay,  and  ninnb ; 

And  could  not  stir  till  dawn  would  break 
Xor  ga>i),  for  I  wa-  dumb. 


35 


And  yet  were  times  all  faintly  tinged 
With  a  j^limmeriui^f  ecstasy; 

Moments  that  lintier'd  in  their  flight, 
Trailing  a  light  to  me 

Elusive  and  wan  as  the  phosphor  foam 
That  floats  on  the  midnight  sea. 


VI. 

And  out  of  my  stricken  lx)dy  then 
My  soul  would  -ecm  to  creep, 

And  over  a  sheer  unfathom'd  brink 
Of  silence  ^iuk  asleep, 

r.eyond  the  shadow  and  -ound  of  dreams, 
And  deeper  than  Earth  is  deep. 

VII. 

Yet  ever  from  those  slumber  spells. 
That  seem'd  like  years.  I'd  start 

Sudden  awake,  bewilder'd  by 

A  presence  nigh  my  heart, 

As  if  a  ^oul  had  ^^tirr'd  in  me 
T«".*  ~<^  — -  - * 


i: 


36 


IX    AMBKR    LANDS 


\iii. 

And  so  three  scasoii>  j)a^>'(l  away, 

And  tlu-  early  Summer  came; 
And  '•till  that  weird  fantasy 

Kn^hrniided  me  the  same; 
But  now  it  ^eem'd  as  luminous 

Witli  some  alchemic  flame. 

IX. 

At  length  in  a  garden  wide  and  old, 

A  garden  all  my  own. 
One  afternoon  I  lav  at  ca-e 

Under  the  trees  alone. 
While  tlie  fragrant  day  fell  off  in  the  West 

Lik(>  •>  Titan  rose  o'erhlown. 

X. 

And  lying  there  T  drcam'd  once  more, 
And  it  seemed  that  a  -earlet  hird 

Fl?w  out  of  my  heart  with  a  joyons  cry, 
To  the  tojjmost  >~kv.  and  I  heard 

Iler  song  come  echoing  down  to  me. 
Yearning  word  on  word : 


XI. 


"Slow — slow ! 
O  moments — f)  ages  slow! 
But  love  shall  ho  my  own  again — 

Be  it  moments  or  ages  slow !" 


^SltSHlHtiEMii 


H 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


37 


Part  III. 


I. 


I  wakcnM  in  the  t\vi!ig[lit  wit'. 

A  fever  at  ni\  brain  ; 
All  iny  veins  were  runninc:  fire 

With  hHn»<  desire  and  pain 
Of  somethinj^  that  three  reasons  long 

Within  my  heart  had  Iain. 


II. 

So  cruel  that  first  I  heeded  not 

A  faint,  allurinj^  tune. 
Trilling  round  me  everywhere 

In  the  jeweird  air  of  June, 
As  far  and  wide  o'er  tlie  darkling  sky 

The  crystal  stars  were  strewn. 


m. 

Till  over  the  rim  of  the  World  uprose 

The  slow  round  Moon, 
And  a  voice  from  the  inner  garden  came 

That  hreath'd  my  name,  and  soon 
Floated  full  out  on  the  waving  air 

Trolling  a  golden  croon : 


38 


I\    AMI5KR    LANDS 


IV. 

"Low — low  ! 
The  Moiiii  lies  low  ! 
O  I.o\(.'I  ni\   I  <)\i'— conic  I'lve  nic 

Wliilc  the  M-.un  lies  low!" 

V. 

T(i  the  inner  parden  fa-t  T  i^pcM 

I  i!i  I  came  to  tiie  inninvt  tree; 
()  the  jxace  nf  a  thM^^an(l  years  I'd  tjivc 

Aj^ain  to  live  ami   -ee 
The  iiallitl  maid  of  tlii'  white,  while  arms 

Who  there  awaited  ine ! 

VI. 

But  I  have  not  the  word-  to  tell 

The  marvel  of  that  try>t: 
Yet  'twas  no  jiliantom  I  did  woo — 

A  virt^in  true  I  ki-^'d. 
With  lips  full  red.  and  eyc^  abloom 

With  peerless  amethyst, 

VII. 

And  l>r,dy  lined  and  shapen  to 

The  last  of  love"<  delij^ht ; 
I  heard  her  whisjier:    "I  am  thine. 

And  thon  art  mine.  to-nii;ht !" 
And  she  \(h)>'<\  the  sjher  zone  tliat  bound 

Her  garments  blue  and  while. 


'if 


•     -  V«i**»i« 


J^lt'ftt^-^^'^'-^'-^'TJfeHffl^H^^'^^^i 


L\    AMDLR   LAXDS 


39 


VIII. 


"Low— low ! 
The  Moon  lies  low ! 
And  inv  I<jvc  is  mine  to  love  me 

While   the    Moon   lies   low!" 


Part  IV. 


I. 


"C)  my  beautiful — my  hrip;ht ! 
Sweetheart  in  the  cool  dim  nipht! 
Calling  thn/  the  starlit  >ilence 
Low  my  name ! 


n 


II. 


"With  that  sound  there  comes  to  me 
A  feeling  lit  with  memory 

Of  regions  lost  and  times  o'erlaid, 
And  love  forgot. 


;  ^1 


III. 


"Take  me,  O  dream-laden  bride ! 
To  the  rapture  oi  thy  side, 
In  this  bower  of  unrevealing 
Velvet  gloom. 


1 1 


40 


IN  ami:i:k  lands 


IV. 


"Lnnp,  my  l)caiitifiil.  \'\v  waited 
I'vr  tlii>  rhariiud  niu'lit — tlii^  fated 
Hour  that  \i(Ms  tlicc  iij)  to  inc 
i'"rom  vcar>  unkiiuwn. 


"Now  sliall  l)C  iinvcil'd  to  me 
All  thy  niai(kn  --Miimctry. 

Seen  hkc  naked  moonlit  marble, 
I'urc  and  pale. 

VI. 

"Till  no  more  tlion  can<t  reveal  me 
Of  thy  beauty,  and  I  feel  thee 

As  a  flower  who-e  touch  in'-tillcth 
Chill  delight. 

VII. 

"My  Sultana!  in  thine  eyes 
Let  me  p^a^e,  where  j)a^sion  lies 

Slumb.rint^  -till  within  their  sultry 
Purple  deep ! 

VIII. 

"Till  within  my  arms  at  last 
In  love's  embrace  I  hold  thee  fast- 
Till  beneath  mv  own  I  feel 

Thy  heaving  heart ! 


»FHfl"? 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 


41 


IX. 


"While  I  gather— while  I  crush- 
All  the  fruits  of  love— the  lush 
Delirium  that  dwelleth  'tween 
The  lips  of  pain. 


"O  long — O  last  supreme  caress  I 
O  ultimate  deliciousness! 
O  slowly  sinking,  satiate, 
Erotic  swoon! 

XI. 

"Swoon,  my  beautiful— my  bright ! 
Dream  far  down  in  the  violet  night! 
Down — far  down,  where  reigns  the  dim 
Lethean  sleep!" 


Paot  y. 


I. 

My  heart  is  a  dry  and  wither'd  thing; 

And  I  that  am  young  am  old 
With  brooding  in  the  silentness 

On  that  caress  and  fold 
Of  white,  w'  Jte  arms  in  the  Summer  night; 

But  the  end  is  still  untold. 


42 


IN  AMliliK  J^NDS 


Nor  sliall  l)c  told — for  the  end  is  not  I 
My  ^oul,  'tween  hopes  and  fears, 

I'ur  tile  pallid  maid  awaits  and  yearns. 
Her  nicmur>'  burns  and  sears: 

But  1  it  was  who  let  her  pass 
Tu  the  peace  of  a  thousand  years 


UL 


Slow- slow! 
O  moments — (J  ages  slow  I 
hul  love  shall  be  my  own  again — 

Be  It  moments  or  a^es  slow  t 


fTH'i 


ifky^i  «-k*^-« 


JX    A.MIll.R    LANDS 


43 


THH  Riiv.Mi;()i-  I  \((ji  |.:s  \  ai.hkau. 

1. 

('no  Auf,ni.t  aftiriiM, ,11  I  ..iw, 
SonifulKTi-  I'aik   (ii   <  tttawa, 

Anx.ii^'  t!ie  oldist  hill,. 
A  Noiini;  ami  nv>A  alluring'  -'jnaw, 
T()j4i,'M  in  a  liuck-kiii  petticoat. 

With  hiick-kiii  triii^^c  ainl  friiU: 
CataiiK  lint  claw,  ucro  at  \wr  tiir.iat. 

l"i\t  on  a  cat^jnt  ^trint^ 
W'itli  copprr  J)faiU  and  colorM  (juills. — 

<•  die  uav  the  <lrcainlii-t  thini^  ! 
('Iran  and  io.,l  a~  the  dcus  tli.it  dm^ 
To  the  tit;ti-iilic>  on  ilio>t'  hills 

I  hro"  the  j^ohku   An.t;uvt  da\vti>: 
I-"or  the  re-t-thc  -tuili^ht  j^lcam'd 
<  )n  hna-ts  and  arm-  and  ley,  tliat  -cem'd 
Mouldid  hrounlv  out  of  hrcinzc: 
SIiapil\-,  -Iindcr.  ddionairc. 
I'roni  Ik'I   coils  of  hlni -black  hair 
To  li.T  dainty  moccasins: 
And  I  nut  lior,  for  inv  sins, 
Sonu'whcrc  hack  of  Ottawa, 
Amon^  the  oldest  liills. 


II. 


I.onp:  aj2fo  in  the  earlies 

A  Frenchman  lived  in  France; 

Gaunt  he  was  like  an  eagle. 


44 


IV    AMi     R    LANDS 


M 


With  an  evil  ca;^'     i,'lancc  : 

One  tyc  wa>  Mack  and  one  was  blue, 

And  the  Mack  (mic  look'd  strai^lit  into  you, 

While  the  l)lue  one  Icer'd  askance, 

Movt  >int'nlly  in   Paris. 
But  it  \va>  wi-er  not  to  try 

To  hiiider  him  or  harass, 
Bi:t  quietly  to  pass  him  by. 

In  the   -infnl  >lreet>  of  Paris; 
I'or  h'.^  anil  was  ^tronf^,  and  his  sword  was  long, 

And  when  he  made  sword-i)lays, 
'Twas  hard  to  Icjok  him  in  the  eye. 

Because  he  look'd  two  ways; 
The  black  one  look'd  straight  into  you. 
And  the  blue  one  where  he'd  pink  you  through, 
And  that  wa>  a  trick  entirely  new 

To  people  then  in   Paris. 
()  he  had  small  fears  of  the  musketeers 

(V  the  macaroons  of  Paris! 
And  he  had  his  timr,  and  he  made  most  free. 
And  he  lived  in  j:;reat  ribalderie, 

in  the  sinful  streets  of  Paris; 
But  at  last  those  evil  eyes  in  his  head 
On  whom  they  fell,  or  x)  'tis  said. 

Brought  ^ueh  annoy  and  harass. 
That  when  Kin:^  Louis  heard  of  it, 

He  order'd  him  from  Paris: 
Yes;  not  for  tlu'  evil  life  h"  led. 

Nor  the  way.  that  he  walk'd  unfit. 
But  for  those  two  evil  e\es  in  his  head, 
They  press'd  him  out  of  Paris. 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


45 


III. 


Twas  long  ago  in  the  earlier, 
And  he  thought  to  take  a  cliance 
For  fortune  in  the  fur  trade, 
So  he  sail'd  away  from  Irance. 
In  a  crooked  ship,  with  a  crooked  deck. 
That  sprang  a  leak  and  went  to  wreck 
Five  hundred  miles  from  our  Quebec, 
At  the  mouth  of  our  Saint  La\vrence, 
How  then  he  fared  I  do  not  know, 
'Twas  long  ago.  but  this  is  so. 
That  up  the  river,  paddhng  slow. 
Half  starv'd,  at  le  ipth  he  reach'd  Quebec, 
And  told  his  talc  of  dismal  wreck.— 
His  name  was  Jacques  X'albeau. 
Now  in  those  days  in  our  Quebec 

Nigh  all  the  folk  were  pious. 
And  when  they  saw  his  one  black  eye. 

With  the  blue  one  on  the  bias. 
They  cro-^s'd  themselves,  and  wishM  the  rogue 

Had  drown'd  'tween  there  and  Paris. 
Yet  money  is  made  in  the  fur  trade, 

When  others  bunt  the  fur. 
And  some  thought  be>t  that  they  should  test 

This  lank  advcnti'.rer ; 
And  so  they  oflFer'd  to  subscribe 
Enough  to  outfit  and  equip 
Jacques  \'albeau  for  a  Imntinn-  trip 
With  some  of  the  Huro^  tribe. 


Ij 


46 


IX    .\.Mlii:R    LANDS 


Thus  tlid  he  j^n,  thi~  Jacciucs  \  alboau, 

And  for  many  day-,  lir  studied  tlu-  ways 

And  tilt  wurdh  el  llic  llurun  tribe. 


I 


fM^ 


i, 


d.i 


IV. 

Yes;  money  is  made  in  tlie  fur  trade 

W'lien  otiicrs  Iniiit  the  fur, 
lint  brandy   to   ihr   Inchans 

If  \()u  want  thr  lu'-t  nf  fur, 
And  c'verytliini;  el-c  they  have  to  show; 
'Tis  a  law  ymi  know,  ami  Jacques  X'albeau 

Was  it^  di>coverer. 
So  for  man\   rhiy-  he  <tnilied  the  ways 

And  words  of  every  tribe. 
Of  moiuy  bad  he  not  a  -^in'.  inarkcc, 

Rut  he  carried  a  Iiuttled  bribe, 
And  the  Moon  ti;rn'd  round,  and  he  prosper'd  some, 

With  beaver  ^kins  and  such, 
Tiiat  he  j^mt  for  hi-  brandv.  and  then  for  rum, 

And  the  v;\n  of  the  heretic  Dutch. 
Rut  me  it  would  take  too  hmp;  to  describe 
How  thinc:«  went  l)ad  in  every  tribe 

Which  the  Church  had  held  in  check; 
But  -^iire  tliere  was  trouble  plenty  too  much 

Tn  our  dear  old  Ouebec. 
So  tlie  ni'-hon  anil  the  riovernor, 

Who  -ometimt-  did  aii^ree, 
Thev  met  ind  t:d'<'d  the  matter  o'er, 

.\nd  M  tlU-d  fmallv 
That  they  wo;i!d  have  thi-  Jacques  \'albeau 


'Tf* 


IX    A.MBr:R    LAXDS 

Anri  hang:  hxm  by  the  neck 
Up  on  tlic  windy  citadel 

Of  our  dear  old  Ouehec. 
lint  .so  it  is,  and  so  it  is. 

And  one  can  never  tell, 
For  in  the  Garden  L'rsuline 
That  evil-eyed   Valheau  had  seen 
An  Indian  ,t,Mrl  turned  seventeen, 

A  sweet  >oun,i;  >-;invai,'esse. 
Left  with  tile  Lady   Priuros 
To  learn  to  sew,  and  cook  nice  food, 
And  tell  her  iiead-.  and  to  confess, 

And  otherwise  he  j:;:ood. 
But  Jacques  \alheau,  that  Jaccjues  \'albeau. 

He  signall'd  her  so  well 
In  forest  ways  she  understood, 

That  just  at  vesper  hell 
Of  that  same  eveninjr  long  ago 
She  slipt  away  into  the  wood: — 
O  wicked  Jacques  \albeau  ! 


47 


V. 

So  Jacques  took  to  the  wilderness, 

The  first  coureur-de-bois. 
And  with  him  went  that  Indian  girl, 

Whose  convent  name  was  Lottila — 

With  the  accent  on  the  aw. 
I  have  heard  !ier  other  name,  but  now 

I  will  not  try  to  tell  it, 
Because  I  can't,  and  'cause  there  are 


!*«  w>  -i.- 


i . 


48 


IX    AMl'.F.R    LANDS 


:'yi:s^\^- 


I! 


No  letters  that  will  spell  it. 
Rut  oh.  'twas  the  j^'kkI.  ^o(h\  time  they  had 

Thro'  the  wood^  in  the  summer  weather! 
IIuntiufT  aii.l  fi-IiiiiL,^  ami  trading  in  furs, 

Ami  tluy  were  >o  rich  together, 
Until  one  night  as  they  lay  asleep. 
Where  the  moss  \va>  gnnving  thick  auu  deep, 

T.ain'-t  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree. 
The  lrn(|uc)i-  Indians  silently 

Regan  to  creep  and  creep 
In  a  closing  circle  where  they  lay. 
Till  scarce  they  were  more  than  three  yards  away. 
Then  a  Iwig  did  snap  with  a  warning  crack; 
Up  sprang  that  valiant  rover.  Jaci|ues. 
All  in  an  instant  wide  awake. 
And  three  of  those  Irofiuoi>  heads  did  hreak 

P.efore  tliey  had  him  down.    Alack! 
They  tied  his  liands  hehind  his  back 

And  fixt  him  to  a  stake; 
And  his  bottles  of  Jamaica  rum 

They  diank  till  they  were  drunk. 
And  while  the  squaws  began  tn  plunk 
With  rattly  sticks  on  the  big  tum-tum 
(That's  a  sort  of  Indian  drum). 
The  braves  did  time  and  music  make 

With  yells  and  grunts  and  squawks. 
And  danced  around  him  at  that  stake, 
\\  ith  ]xiinti  d  cheek  and  horr"ble  head. 
And  pine-kiU't  t  irchcs  burning  red. 

And  ugly  tomahawk-; 
And  told  him  how  his  scalp  the\  'd  take. 


[n  . 


IN    AMBER   LAXDS 

And  otherwise  keep  him  awake 
Until  the  bIe>H^I  day  >IioiiId  break, 

Then  cut  him  into  blocks. 
And  finally  his  body  bake. 
When  sure  that  it  no  more  could  ache, 
And  eat  his  licart  when  he  wa^  dead.  ' 
Of  these  details,  perhaps.  I've  said 

Too  mucli— the  subject  .shocks. 


49 


VI. 

But  so  it  is,  and  so  it  is. 

And  one  can  never  '  II  ; 
For  on  \'albeau  the  flesli  did  sizz, 

And  he  bej^Mn  to  yell. 
When  the  Devil,  niovinq;  mic^Iitily 

Somewhere  down  in  Hell. 
Did  cause  a  terriiile  earth()uake. 
And  all  of  ("ana<la  did  -hake 
From  Ottawa  to  Riinouski. 
(This  happcn'd  in  >ixtcen  ^ixtv-threc. 
And  it's  all  set  out  in  iii-torv.) 
But  Jacques  \'albeau  >tood  swarthily. 

And  desperate  at  the  stake, 
And  called  the  Devil  to  his  aid. 
Whi'e  all  the  Indians,  dismav'd. 
Took  to  their  naked  knees  and  pray'd. 
And  the  j^round  kept  Iuavin<4  hcavilv. 
Yes.  all  took  to  tluir  knees  and  pray'd, 
But  Lottila,  the  little  squaw. 


-i! 


11 


I  II 


so 


TX    AMr.F.R    LANDS 


Who,  with  no  thcnislit  luit  her  lover's  hfe, 
Cut  thro"  his  thon->  with  a  ^calpinji^  knife, 
While  the  un.nnd  kept  heavinjj  heavily. 
And  then  wa>  that  threat  harj^ain  made 
As  Jacfnu-  \'all)cau  stood  swarthily; 
He  call'd  the  Devil  to  his  aid. 
And  the  Devil,  movinjr  inif:;htily 

Somewhere  down  in  Mell, 
Roar'd  re])ly.  so  I  am  told. 
That  Jao(|iK'S  \alheavi,  the  overhold, 

And  I.otlila  a^  well. 
If  they  would  do  his  will  alway. 
Should  laui;h  at  Time  and  never  jT;row  old, 
And  none  sh(.uld  lunder  them  or  check, 
Whether  at  work  or  whetlur  at  play, 
Free  to  come  and  free  to  ^o 
Thro'  all  the  Province  of  Quebec 
And  the  borders  of  Ontario — 

Down  to  the  Juilt^ment  Day ! 


VII. 


I'     i 

I!    I 


Then  Jacques  \'albcau  and  Lottila, 
So  the  Iro(|Uois  declare 
(And  I  have  cause  to  think  'tis  true), 
While  others  crouch'd  all  in  despair, 
]''o11owM  a  hall  of  tire  that  ran 
Down  to  the  river  iicar  St.  Anne, 

Till  it  -t('i,t  by  a  bi_t^  canoe; 
And  1  <>ttil,\  six-  fainted  there. 

And  fell  in  that  big  canoe. 


-'J»W41( 


IX    AMBER    LANDS 

And  Jacqiic>.  half  ilcad.  ho  fell  there,  too. 
Then  it  ru^e  of  it -elf  in  tlie  spectral  air, 

An.l  far  out  of  MjL,'iit  it  tiew. 
]\o\\  lonij  it  ua>  tliey  lu'ver  knew. 
It  may  have  l)een  days,  I,ut  Jacques  came  to. 
And  found  tluy  wen   «ti'!  in  the-  hi.<,r  cano.'. 
Iloverinp  over  a  l;in(Nr;i]if  fair. 

Late  in   the  aftrrno'.n. 
And  it  tloatfd  aiinle-s,  here  and  there, 
lUit  Jac(|t:es  \'al!.raii  had  readv  wit. 
And  he  >at  and  con-iderM  the  matter  a  bit. 

Till  with  a  paddle  <oon 
He  cau.Lrlit  the  trick  of  -.ailini;  it. 
Slowly  at  fir~t  and  caiitiouslv. 
riut  at  la«t  he  -ail'd  as  joyously 

As  any  hird  oii  the  winij: 
While  Lottila  woke  up  to  ^in^ 

To  the  end  of  tho  afternoon. 
Then  a  worn-d^wn  mountain  they  did  see, 

I'rom  whose  i^reen  cnverinjj; 
The  .crranite  rih>  >a^,L:'d  outwardly ; 
It  sccni'd  r-onie  inon>trou>  ancient  thinp^ 

Croucliin'jf  wearilw 
lUit  on  its  siininiit  they  did  lij^ht. 
And  make  their  camp  there  for  the  nifjht; 
In  later  <lay<,  upou  that  ^ite, 

r.ut  lower  down  the  hill. 
Jacques  l)ni!t  a  cabin  lar^'c  and  stronfj. 
And  near  to  it  a  whi-kcv    vtill 

To  make  the  whiskey-hlanc. 

*-\rKi  Uiuie    i  ii   iiKC   to  Uii   ro   \0{\ 


51 


i. 


52 


IX    AMBER    LANDS 


Of  how  lie  dill  tliL  Devil's  will 

In  that  hcwitcliM  caiiuc, 
Ihit  the  talf  of  it  would  he  too  long, 

()  much  ton  ionir.  indeed  ! 
Yet  in  pari-Ii  neord-  you  may  read 
How.  with  drunken  >hanty  crew. 
They  >aw  him  I)a^■^  in  that  canoe. 
Piercins>;  the  clouds  with  awful  speed, — 

Let  that  be  a  les.-on  to  you ! 

VIII. 


ii 

li 
It 

f  I 


So  thus  that  Aui;u>t  afternoon, 

Ainoni^  tlujse  haiuited  hill>. 
I  met  that  young  hedevill'd  >qua\v. 
The  luring,  li^>ome   l.ottila. 

Minding  her  whi>key  stills. 
And  truly  I  was  glad  I  met  her. 
Yet  I  am  shy.  and  xiiiietimes  nervous. 
And  I  wonder'd  what  excuse  would  serve  us 

To  know  each  other  hetter; 
Rut  lifting  my  hat  to  the  brown  young  maid, 
She  sniil'.d  straight  at  me,  unafraid, 

And  jire-ently  began 
To  siHiik'  witli  pretty  words  that  ran 
Thro'  EnL;lidi.  l-'rencb  pud  Indian. — 

It  was  a  l(i\^ly  jargon: 
Put  she  ^aid  nn  Nvord  of  Jacques  X'albcait, 
Who  with  the  Devil,  long  ago. 

Made  such  a  -pKndid  bargain; 


So  bow 


was 


Kiiov,- 


IX    A.\ir.l£R    LANDS 

Now  it's  sometinus  sweet  to  he  iiuli>creet, 
As  for  mc  I  am  never  wi^e; 
So  we  sat  Us  down  mi  the  warm,  dry  sod, 
'Mid  lirown  f^ra^s  and  -nMcn  rod. 

W'atcliini;  tlie  liiitn  tlii>. 
And  ^hc  talkd  .ind  i.iH.d.  a     i  h.  Id  lur  liaiid. 
And  ulitn  I  cunid  nnt  midfr  lanil 
1  lookM  down  diep  into  Ikt  eye>. 

Perhap-  the  tiniii^'  -i)ijnd:^  -ill"-, 
Hut  t'link  of  tlic  i!i:turL  that  -he  made, 

Array'd  hke  a  ti,^'erdil;.  : 
Her  body  hrr.vn  an  !  quivering 
In  that  rcvfahni,'  jKtticoat. 
With  catamount-claws  at  her  fine  throat 

Fixt  on  a  cati^^ut  .-trinj:^; 
And  the  cojiper  bead-  and  cnlor'd  quills, 
Ju.it  that  and  her  dainty  moccar-ins, — 

O  ^hc  was  the  dreamliest  thing! 
And  I  met  her,  for  my  sins, 
Somewhere  back  of  Ottawa, 

Among  the  oldest  hills. 


53 


ii 


IX. 

The  sun  was  slipping  do»vn  the  sky, 

Close  to  the  crrecn  horizon. 
When  sudden  T  saw  the  fairicst  .-iglit 

That  ever  I  set  mv  eves  on  : 
A  yellow  canoe,  with  three  of  a  crew, 

.Almost  too  fat  tn  follow. 
Straight  out  of  the  sky  to  the  hilltop  nigh, 


i 


54 


I\    AMI'-KR    l.ANUS 


i 


■f 


ii 


Came  ^ki:ninin^'  .-iloii},'  like  a  swallow, 
And  then  to  tin-  calin.  rij^'lit  Iji'Iow. 
It  '-lid  with  a  nioti-m  easy  and  slow, 
And  a  man  Mcjit  r.iit— alriadv    \<n\  know 
'Twas  Jaccnics  \'all)iau — 'twa^  Jacqnc^  X'albcan ! 

dainit  he  wa--  like  an  ca^lc, 

Witli  an  evil  lai^k-  glance; 
His  Mack  eye  Idok'd  inc  ihrout^h  and  liirough, 

.\nd  Iii>  blue  i>nc  UrrM  a^kanre  ; 
Tlu-  fr'iiit  <<i  lii~  head  had  hccn  ti<niaha'.\kt, 

And  -caljit.  h'^t  (Inv.ii  hi^  hack 
His  hair  wa--  llnw  inj^  ci>;ir~c  and  lil.uk. 

Like  tl'.o  tail  nf  a  Imr^c  that  i~  ilcckf. 
Yet  he  ha'i  a  ver\   enL:ai,Mrit;;  vimlc. 

And  I  liked  the  way  t!  at  he  talk'd. 
He  uas  vtrai'dit  a-  an  arrow  uIkii  iir  walk'd, 

And.  after  a  little  while. 
I  thoue'U  him  a  hand-ome  man — almost. 
And  really  f|i'itc  a  (Klicihtful  ho>t. 
He  intrndnced  the  otlnr  two 
Who  rode  with  him  in  the  biq^  canoe. 
'  'ne  was  a  fat  little  c. nnitry  i^irl, 
With  carrot)  h.iir  in  a  towsellM  curl, 
Her  dolly  eye^  had  tear-  at  the  rim. 
And  her  face  was  pale  a-  milk  that  is  skim, 

And  she  was  a  -ad  little  girl. 
The  other  giu'-t  was  a  -hantyman, 

Half  drunk  by  the  looks  of  him; 
Rut  the  fhantvmati  ^^  a-  an  Irishman, 

And  that  i-  cno-.tgh  for  hiin. 
Thfrt  Lotti^a  and  the  countrv  j-ir! 


1\    AMiiLK    LANDS 


55 


Left  us  and  •  .tit  h>  tlit-  upper 
Caljin  above  the  ulii^kcy  still, 

To  set  tlie  tabic  lor  supper, 
While  we  -at  down  in  the  red  sunlight, 

And  listened  to  Jacques;  X'albeai 

A.s  he  told  pr()diL,Mnu>  stories 

Of  two  hundred  years  ago, 
Ht  all  the  old  coureurs-dc-bois 

Dea<l  M)  1  ing  ago, — 

We  still  there  in  t'le  red  sunlight. 

And  tlu  \   all  j^mK-  below. 
Then  came  a    (uni  I,  and  I  look'd  around. 

Then  u]»  where  Lottila 
Was  rin':;ing  a  queer  hide  oblong  bell — 

Maybe  'twas  jut  a  rowbell, 
Tho'  I  think  "twa-  -ilvcr.  so  cKar  aufl  swect 

The  silver  tone  of  it  fell — 
A.nd  gladly  we  ftdlow'd  X'albtau  to  the  upper 
Cabin  where  we  were  to  have  our  .supper. 
I-or  nie.  I  wa-  more  than  ready  to  eat, 

And  tin  snp])er  wa-  a  dream. 
We'd  bnUeimilk  and  new  potat. 
"And  a  roa-ted  chicken,  ^reat  and  fat. 

With  cauliflower  in  cream. 
And  a  gl?-s  or  two  of  whiskcy-blanc, 
Just  to  help  tlic  meal  along. 
And  another  glass,  and  after  that 

Tabac  de  habitant. 


rf  : 


m 


I! 


56 


i.\  ami;i:k  lands 


=^j    I 


IT'-  T 


I  pnn  my  ^^niil,  I  never  knew 

Jii-t  when  wr  cnttr'd  the  hij;  canoe, 

The  same  a~  uno  cnn  never  keep 

Tlie  moment  clear  one  falls  asleep. 

lUit  sf>  it  \\a^  until  I   found 

\Vf  Vvcre  tin  more  r.pon  the  s^round. 

Xow  I  at  tin)i^  ;im  vxtrcmcK    lu  rvnus, 

As  I  i-aid  before,  and  whtn  I   found 

How  that  hewitcli'd  c.moc  (hd  -wi-rvc  us 

['])  and  away  from  tlu-  ^ohd  s^'rouml. 

With  tlie  hill-  a-sinkiiiL:  all  aromnl. 

And  we  once  more  in  the  cop|,rr  t^lim 

Of  the  Stin  wc  jo-t  -omcwhilv  hoforc, 

(>h,  then,  ind' rd.  I  thout,'Iit  -mall  lijamc 

To  the  friL;ht(n"(l  j^drl  with  tlie  touscll'd  curl, 

.And  dolly  eyi-  with  tear-  ;>t  tic  rim. 

.\nd  f.'icc  all  |;alr  a-^  mi'.k  that  is  skim — 

I'll  Ix't  that  iir.'  "V  u  wa-  the  '^amc! 
Tint  the  ^Iiantymnn  was  toa  drunk,  I  think. 
To  know  where  we  were — it's  a  beastly  shame 

The  way  those  Iri-h  drink. 


i: 


XI. 

Xo\v  remember  aviation 
l~)itftT-  (luite  from  naviLration, 
For  ;d\\a\s  iti  the  water 
(">f  the  ri\er  that  von  ride  in. 
Or  be  it  -mnoth  or  ripply. 
A  canoe  is  vcrv  tintjjv. 


t  V  i 

1  f 


I 


IX    AMHKR    L.WUS 

And  steadily  you  kneel. 

P.iit  thriiiitjh  the  air  you  j,'lide  in 

A  tashifin  that  yun  feel 

It's  a  mefhiun  to  confidr  in, 

And  yoti  needn't  keep  a  keel. — 

That  much  I  ^a\v  at  a  plancc. 
And  tho'  Tin  not  Mift'iciently  wise 
To  make  it  clear.  \t)ii  cant  capsize 

So  lonj?  as  you  properly  balance, 

r)r  ri^e  hy  kvitatioii. 

Now,  tliat\  why  aviation 

Differs  quite  from  nnvipfation, 
And  1  had  hcj^nm  to  fit.!  easy  ap:ain, 

And  ready  to  take  a  chance. 
When  all  of  a  -tuMen  it  >-tartifl  to  rain 
KijLjht  over  our  head-,  and  there  was  a  growl 

C)f  thunder  far  down  in  t!ie  We-t. 
Then  the  Sun  went  out,  atid  the  wind  'c:an  howl, 
And  a  storm  came  boundinc;  alonpr  on  the  crest 
Of  the  massy  clouds,  i^^rown  -niphurous. 
And  there  v.;!.-  the  blue  zic^-zac:  and  flash 
Of  lightnintj,  follow'd  by  in-tant  crash 

Of  the  thimder  ncnrinc;  w^. 
With  that  X'alluau  bej:::an  to  sine;', 
Wiiile  Lottila  di'l  sway  ami  swing 

Her  brown  arms  jierilous; 

Cai  fnhii'ou  fiihircttr. 
Cull  falurnii  doudc! 
I  did  the  same  but  trcmblinplv. 
And  the  Indian  girl  did  grin  w  it!i  glee 


57 


m 


;8 


IX    AMlii:R    LANDS 


With  her  fact  in  her  hand^  and  her  heacl  on  my  knee, 

r.ut  the  >li,nitMii  in  -till  lav  drunk, 

So  how  i-nul(l   I  put  her  away? 

It  was  all  -^11  iliaractcristic  ! 

Cai  fiihirni!  t.-Jurcttc, 
Cai  fahirnu  dondc! 
Xow.  it'.s  all  very  fine  to  ^incr  that  way 

When  everythint;^  eUe  i-  rii^ht. 
Piut  we  sailed  straiidit  into  a  loaded  cUuid, 

So  \  i'l:;i;i(m-,   nnarohi-t'o 
It  lian;;M  like  Idii-  of  (!\  ■.iiuile  :  — 
I'l'V  ;i  tiniv  1  w.i-  Ii!;nil  wilh  tlir  awfrl  li'^Iit, 

Ami  (Kaf  with  the  awful   r^ar  : 
I  felt  we  v.ere  hlnwn  clean  mU  of  si.Ljlit, 

An  I   then   I   filt  we  had   -nnk 
'I'll  the  h(ittr)mlc-.>  pit  fur  evermore; 

Fhit  the  'hantymin  -till  !a\  dnni'-. 
It  niake?  me  shiver  to  think  of  it  now, 
Put  after  a  hit  I  rallied  somehow. 
\  allieaii  was  la'i'  Iiin^:  at  the  l;o\v, 

\n  I  lie  hent  far  hack  to  ->pcak  : 
"!!i>l;'i.  nionsienr ;  enninient  ca  va ''"* 
i"i    kee|)  my  face  with  I.ottila. 

I  nianat^ed  ju>t  to  vfanimer : 
"lUilI;. .  X'alheau — c'cst  maj^nifiqiie  ! 

I'lr.t  i^o  where  the  clouds  are  calmer!" 


XII. 

\'.'e  wore  '.:p  in  a  con!,  tweet  air. 

Under  a  wonderful  =k->-. 
\'elvety  dark  and  richly  sown 


IN    AMLiHR    LAXDS 

With  woHflcrfnl  star>  trom  zone  to  zone, 

And  all  of  thcin  >toni'<l  -o  n'v^h. 
Rut  a  little  more,  and  we  woiiM  play 
Near  the  opal  arcli  of  the  Milky  Way, 

With  the  yellow  Moon  ncnr  by. 
Then  (A-er  the  rim  we  Ir.ok'd  far  down 

Where  the  WorM  had  vanish'd  in  ire. 
Where  fold  on  fold  o\  the  black  cloud-^  rolld', 

Roarincr  and    fearful   with   fire. 
And  we  m-e  frMni  tliat  Devil'-  ernoiMe, 
Like  soids  t'-at  arr  ri-int;  rrhasMl  from  TIcll, 

ff  region-  df  c;I(  ry  and  .crold. 

Hii^her  and  hi",;«r  and  hiijher! 

And  tlic  air  crn  w  thin  and  colrj : 

But  hi.L^luT  and  In-lur  and  hi-hcr 

I  ur,::cd  \"alhean  t<i  I'vpl'ire 
Nearer  and  nearer  that  bor  let        t;old 

And  limit  where  tnortah  expire: 

Hicfhcr  and  hiidicr  an<!  hiy[herl 
While  a  million  million  mile-  to  the  fore, 
I  warchM  the  -lint  ..f  a  jewellM  d.^or 

Iti  the  Gardens  of  De-ire: 

flisjher  and  hif^^Iier  and  hicrhcr! 
Till  I  was  dazed  and  tny  breath  was  gone, 

And  I  could  -ec  no  more. 


59 


km 


S?.-a 


Xtll. 


When  I  came  to  in}  =elf  we  were  <;ailin.cr  down. 

•And  circling;  like  a  feather 
In  a  slow  dcscendinc:  --piral  flight 

Thro'  mellow-  moonlit  weather; 


'  fi 


6o 


IN    AMP.ER    LANDS 


i 


it 

i 

[  i 

It 


I' 


Ami  tlic  country  ,L;irI  crooiiM  with  dclip^ht, 

And  cla'-pt  lier  Ii.md-  toc^ethcr. 
I'ut  still  liir  luad  dr(iii)'d  (in  my  knee 

A<  *-ln'  cla-]it  lur  lian'U  tc^^'ctlicr. 
And  -(<  rli'M'  \M  rr  u x  that  none  cmld  see 

A-    1   fcHii'd  with  a  carrMfy  curl: 
AI.'i    !     I  admit  mv  conduct  \va>  raw. 
l"i>r  niv  In  art  \\a    all  tw  I.uttila. 

f'.iit   I  ki:  cd   !l!L'  Mtlur  ,c;irl. 
N(n\-  it'.-  a  ur<at  nii-takt,  when  uv  in  the  skies, 

To  ki--  the  ritl'cr  girl, 
Ju-t  for  a  pair  of  (ImIiv  eye-. 

Or  a  cute  little  carmty  curl  : 
^Vt  not  the  sli'^lite-t  harm  \va-  meant. 
With  me  it'-  a  matter  of  temperament ; 

Hut  the  -hantvinan  woke  up! 

(  >li.  hla-t  tliat  Tridi  pup! 
He  woke  and  cauf^ht  u-  in  the  act. 
Jii-t  at  the  moment  our  lip'-  had  smackt, 
:\ni\  he  went  for  ive.  hcll-hcnt ; 
I  <  t  out  from  hi^  tic^ly  throat  a  yell, 
Ti.ld  Lottila  jubt  what  he  saw\ 

And — before  I  had  time  to  explain, 

r>r  arptic.  aq^ain't  the  fact — 

'(hat   fact   <(>  apparently  plain — 
They  hnth  made  at  me  ■^o  sava{;e  I  fell 

Without  a  ch.inee  to  prepare! 
■^"•l   '   t\Il.  and    I    fell,  and   I   fill   -my  Lord! 
It'-  the  awfule-t   fcil  to  fall  .uerhoard 

hrom  a  canoe  a\\a\  up  in  the  air: 
It's  really  too  swift  to  describe  or  tell, 


KXs-i  I '  3r*<«  t  c  i.  «fcr4  ««-rHi&n  w^vtk-w^jaiAxwnarKKiiM 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


6i 


But  first  yon  feci  you're  (lut  oi  it. 

And  then  you  tVvI  a  tliunip. 
And  after  that  you're  fjciicrally 

A  mo-t  unl()vcl\  lump. 
But  in  my  ca-c  'twas  different. 
My  body  was  cau.i,dit  by  a  wind  current, 

And  it  drove  me  --idcuays  on. 
With  a  muffled  whack,  'j^ainst  a  bit,^  haystack, 
And  r  tumbled  it  over  and  lay  on  my  back 

I'nconscious  till  the  dawn, 

And  so  flat.  Hat.  flat. 
That  wlien  F  arose  in  miscr\-. 

A  lone:  time  after  that. 
'Twa-  hard  to  remember  where  I  was  at. 

And  I  vin-l,',]  hic,Mibriously. 
With  mv  body  m)  -tiff  and  my  head  so  sore, 
It  couldn't  have  hurt  me  any  more 
If  I'd  been  out  all  nig^it  on  a  sj)rec — 

Gee! 


XIV. 

But  now.  O  fat  and  bulbous  friend, 
Bibulatc  and  let  me  end 

This  tale  ere  I  bej,nn  to 
Tell  other  things  irrelevant 
Of  venturintrs  extravairant 

And  m\stery  and  -in.  too: 
For  I've  had  my  time  in  every  clime 

The  Lord  has  led  me  into : — 
Altho'  I'd  rather  not  recall 

Some  places  that  I've  been  tor — 


'  t!! 


:i11 


m 


62 


IX    AMr.i:R    LANDS 


I5ut  ^'iw  111C  Aiiq^n-t.  after  all, 
If  I  he  free  t'>  rnam  and  loll 
Ainon^f  tliii-c  tiL:cr-li!y  liill> 

Hack  of  (  )ttav,a. 
I  am  ready  to  ri-k  whatever  hefal 
To  meet  once  more  that  little  ^(juaw, 
The  lurin;^:,  li-'-omc  Lottila. 

Mindiiii^  lier  whi-key  still-: 
To  listen  a^ain  to  her  |)ntt\  ])atoi-.. 
And  hold  her  hand  and  hear  her  ^ins:^ 
AnumL,^  tho^e   tiL;er-liIv   hilN. 

I'nr  she  was  the  dreaniliest  thini;! 
(lai  tohi It'll  l\ilv.i\-tt:, — 

I  think   I   hear  hrr  vet. 
Out  there,  in  hir  hnckskin  petticoat. 
With  catamount  claws  at  her  line  tliroat, 

Fixt  on  a  cati^ut  striuii  : 
And  the  copjier  he.ids  aiid  color'd  quills. 

And  <laiiity  moccasins, — 
The  sirl  who  met  me,  for  my  sins, 
Somewhere  hack  of  ()tta\\a. 
The  w;.,.ton  town  (jf  ( )itawa. 
Antony-  the  oldest  hills. 

Cai  faliiroii  faliirrttr, 

Cai  faluron  diindc! 


V  f 


IN   AMBER   LAXDS 


63 


TIIK  CARDL-Xs  OF  Ui;iJ\I()X. 


I. 

Over  a  ')lcak  and  barren  plain 
^^■Ilc      flowers  never  blouni— 

Where  never  slant  the  f,^olcl  sun-bars, 
A(jr  any  stars  illume 

The  dim  and  sullen  atmosphere 
Tliere  brooding  o'er  its  doom— 


ir. 

Alone  there  went  an  aged  man, 
\N'ho  bent  and  cower'd  low,' 

As  if  across  that  hopeless  waste 
In  fearful  haste  to  go, 

But  could  not.  for  his  palsied  legs 
That  painful  dragg'd,  and  slow. 

III. 

For  age  not  come  of  mortal  years 

Had  over  him  unroll'd  ; 
Like  wither",!  leaves  on  winter  trees 

Dull  memories  and  cold 
Still  ru'itlf^'l  /I.-.. I.-  ..* 


•  ••       i  *40 


But  old— old— old ! 


heart— 


u 


m 


f'l 


I 


IN  A.MBLR  LANDS 


rv. 


!  i 


And,  tremulous,  full  oft  he  turn'd 
His  ha^'j,'ard  ashen  face. 

L\i>ectaiU  aye  whence  he  had  fled 
'Jo  loom  in  dread  niei:;ue 

A  stealthy  Horror,  tliat  e'en  now 
Crept  after  him  apace. 


V. 


And  loiiK  he  fared  with  lahor'd  steps, 

.\ud  many  moaning  siglis, 
Till  sudden  changed  the  scene  for  him- 

He  jiauscd  in  grim  surmise, 
And  g.ized,  with  feeble  hand  upHft 

Unto  his  Meared  eyes. 


VI. 


For  on  that  plain,  whose  barrennesi 

X(j  future  may  redeem, 
Now  willi  emotion  manifold 

His  eyes  hehold  a  stream 
Of  solemn  waters  rolling  with 

Liibruken  thon  gleam. 


Behind  the  haunted  desert  lay, 

P.»»frir{>  ^  mvsterv. — 
\\  l.al  hazard  there  of  better  plight. 


...JStUfcu 


tkJM^Attfsa 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 

What  dark  respite  may  be. 
Not  knowing  yet  he  ventures  on. 
Round  glancing  fearfully. 

viir. 

Yet  when  he  reach'd  the  reedy  shore 
To  brave  the  rivcrV  brink, 

Dcsi)air  almost  like  peace  he  felt 
The  while  he  knelt  to  drink, 

Thinking  in  those  deep  waters  there 
How  easeful  he  might  sink. 


65 


IX. 

But  as  he  bent  to  take  the  draught 
He  spied  a  ncaring  light; 

And  down  the  river  slowly  drew 
A  lone  canoe  in  sight, 

Wan  as  a  crescent  newly  born 
Upon  the  verge  of  Night. 


5H 


X. 

At  that  his  eyes  were  steadfast  set 
Upon  its  glimmering  rim; 

Above  the  current  visible 
The  dainty  shell  did  swim, 

Until  it  gleam'd  upon  the  tide 
na  lair  aorcasi  ot  him. 


i 


66  IX   AMBER   LANDS 

XI. 

Tlicn  forth  the  old  man  strctch'd  his  arms, 
With  nnittcr'd  prayer  and  hoarse; 

As  if  that  vessel  frail  cmild  hear, 
It  'p;an  to  veer,  perforce 

Ohedient  to  his  one  aiijjeal, 
And  shoreward  hent  its  course. 


M 


XII. 

A  moment  more  upon  that  shore 

And  he  has  parted  thence; 
lie  feels  the  soothin*;  waters  roll, 

Relievinjj  soul  and  sen<c 
From  every  grief  hy  reason  of 
Their  slumberous  influence. 

XIII. 

With  closed  eyes  he  lieth  there, 

And  one  by  one  is  shorn 
Of  every  thought  with  sorrow  fraught, 

Till  he  hath  naught  to  mourn ; 
And  far  upon  the  bosom  of 

That  river  he  is  borne. 


in 


XIV. 

His  age  doth  gradual  dissolve; 

Tie  is  no  more  tmcotith  ; 
He  feel^  within  an  elixir 

A<  if  it  were  in  sooth 
The  l;!:>opiing  of  some  pale,  delicious 

Afterflower  of  vouth. 


i 


■-.  !<»,!, 


IN  aaii:i:r  lands 


67 


XV. 

And  now  he's  'ware  of  warbling  sounds, 

Faint  cchoinj^  and  bliirr'd ; 
And  now  of  one  more  clear  and  strong; 

A  wondrous  song  lie  Iieard ; 
It  secm'd  the  happy  dreaming  of 

Some  lone  entranced  bird. 


XVI. 

A  slow  and  golden  slumber  song, 
Whose  languid  numbers  gloze, — 

A  witchery  of  syllables 
In  woven  spells  to  close 

Sad  eyes  to  lung  forgetfulness, 
And  marble-like  repose. 


XVII. 

At  length  the  bird's  sweet  arias 

In  fluted  notes  subside; 
He  thinks  how  near  its  covert  he 

Would  peacefully  abide ; 
Then  once  again  his  eyes  unclose 

Upon  the  river's  tide. 


M 


XVIII. 

Around  him  fell  a  warm  twilight, 
The  waters  now  were  blue ; 

Far-off  appear'd  on  either  hand 
iv  terraced  >tiaiiu  ui  view, 


68 


IN   AMBER    LANDS 


H 


I  t 


Upleadincj  to  such  gardens  as 
No  mortal  ever  knew. 

XIX. 

And  while  he  gazed  that  wan  canoe 

L'ncrringly  did  steer, 
As  'twere  a  thing  of  destiny, 

And  presently  drew  near 
A  gentle  shore  outjetting  to 

A  mottled  marble  pier. 

XX. 

And  mooring  there  he  stept  ashore, 

Still  joyously  intent 
On  seeking  for  that  singing-bird. 

And  garden-ward  he  went, 
Strolling  thro'  the  solitudes 

In  fearless  wonderment. 


'i» 


XXI. 

'Mid  spaces  smooth  and  wide  between 
Where  grow  gigantic  trees, 

Whose  branches  ever  quiver  in 
The  faint  continual  breeze, 

And  tangle  up  the  placid  sky 
With  shifting  traceries. 

XXII. 

Yet  many  steps  he  had  not  gone 
Ere  strewn  upon  the  ground, 

(ir    CTlf>aminrr    ft-pirvi     .•«-«....-,_     -iim 


IN    AMllLK    LANDS 


69 


Or  near  to  him,  he  found 
Abandon'd  bodies  bciuliful 
In  charmed  sUimber  bound. 

xxni. 

Comely  youths  and  maidens  in 

Sechidcd  dells  al'.ne. 
Or  else  in  ca^y  j^roup>  roclin'd. 

With  arms  cntwin'd — ail  prone 
Like  fallen  statues  carven  out 

From  jiallid  Parian  stone. 

XXIV. 

And  some  were  e'en  more  fair  to  see 
And  shone  translucent  white ; 

They  secni'd  as  waninpf  to  .1  sheen 
Of  pure  serene  starli>j;ht  ; 

And  even  as  he  gazed  one  slowly 
Faded  from  his  sight. 

x.w. 

Awhile  he  marvell'd  tranquilly, 
And  then  his  eyes  did  stray 

To  where  an  ancient  man  appear'd. 
With  flowing  beard  and  gray. 

Who  musingly  toward  him  bent 
His  solitary  way. 

xxvi. 

But  as  he  came  his  footsteps  scarce 

The  silences  bestirr'd ; 
He  seem'd  so  rapt  with  reverent  awe, 


f  if 

'1 1.1 


a. 


r: 

s 


^1" 
i 


IN'    AMIJER    LANDS 

He  neither  -aw  or  heard 
Frir  holy  th<»iij,'lit>.  that  compass'd  him,- 
JIc  j)a^s'(l  without  a  word. 

xxvir. 
And  pravely  thro'  the  mighty  glades 

I'pon  his  way  he  kept, 
That  ancient  lone  soninaiiilnihst, 

Who  nothing  wist  except 
The  reveries  hegniling  him 

Where  all  the  others  slept. 

xxvin. 
Then  had  he  mind  to  follow  on 

The  F.IdcT  for  a  guide, 
h're  yet  the  forestry  hetween 

Should  weave  a  screen  to  hide 
His  all-iiiilieediiig  Drtiid  form 

Which  on  ahead  did  glide.. 

XXIX. 

And  long  thro'  aisled  vistas  that 

Bewildering  intervene 
He  follow'd  on  till  he  espied 

A  vast  hillside  all  green, 
With  sloping  lawns  and  fountains  deckt, 

And  high  whereon  is  seen 

XXX. 

A  wondrous  gleaming  palace  built 
r\(  -1-1 I         , 


1 

if 


I\    AMl'.i:f<    LANDS 

With  many  a  niche  and  window  set 

And  minaret  far  tlown 
'liovc  golden  domes  «)iit<wclling  like 

Fanta.stic  fruit  (/crgrown. 


7» 


XXXI. 

And  in  its  centre  wiflc  beneath 

An  ever-open  door 
Gives  promise  of  all  i)lcasantncss. 

With  rich  recess  and  store 
Of  pricele^     treasures  taken  from 

The  palaces  of  yore. 


XXXII. 

Yet  that  so  easy  seeming  hill 
Soon  fills  him  with  amaze, 

Now  near,  now  far,  the  palace  gleams. 
Like  one  he  seems  who  plays 

With  quick  reverse  of  optic  glass. 
Until  at  length  he  strays. 


XXXIII. 

Unto  a  fountain  playing  in 

A  single  column  cool, 
Who<e  showering  waters  musical 

With  diamonds  bejewel 
The  silver'd  air,  returning  to 

Their  slumber  in  the  pool. 


f 


?H 


'I 


72  IX  .\mi;i:r  laxds 

.X.\\l\'. 

And  l)v  tliat  i'oimtain">  j^ra^sy  marge 
( )iH'  [ircrii --s  maid  duth  lie, 

l  ncoiiiiianidn'd  a-^  a  --tar, 
Hit  htantics  far  outvie 

All  (.tlicrs  in  tlu.-c  j^'ardui--  seen, 

He  will  not  [la---  lu>r  hy. 

xx.w. 
Ikr  face,  half  jjilli.w'd  on  Iier  arm, 

I-  to  his  dwii  nptrrn'il 
So  t(n<Ur!y.  fh.-it  it  did  sfcni 

SIic-  in  h(  r  dnani  di-oi'rn'd 
His  niniii!,'.  and  tho"  Ixnjn.l  in  -Icon, 

Still  for  that  comin^r  vcarn'd. 

N.\X\I. 

His  last  dcMre  TukN  |)od\   here 
TIk"  while  he  hcniN  to  ki^- 

Jhr  lij,.  that  np.n  ],u^   ;,  n,,\vcr— 
\\'hat  diiktt  hiur  i>  thi^ ! 

And  h.df  -he  u.ikrn-,  in  hi,  arms 
^\"!liIe  he  doth  -w.M.i,   fup  hliss. 

X\N\  II. 

There  hath  he  fallen  hy  her  side, 

All  onier  life  i.  s[,cnt. 
^■'^  "  that  pair  eneireler]  sleep 


'*■  ^1     .-^  Ml  diip  content: 

■    IoIIl:    1m    p;i 

in  utter  v.iniihment 


TO    ai^e.   !,.„•:  iM   ,,;,^.  a^^.yy 


4 1  f»t 


IX    AMDER    LANDS 


73 


OCTOBER. 

When  I  was  a  little  fellow,  lonp  apo. 
The  '^easnn  of  all  ^easons  seemed  to  me 
The  Sumiiier's  afterjj;l()\v  and  fantasy — 

Tlie  red  Oct()l)er  of  (  )ntario: 

Ti)  raiiihle  unre'-traiird  where  majjles  grow 
Thick-^et  with  butternut  and  hickory, 
And  be  the  while  companion'd  airily 

By  ehin  tliiiii^'s  a  child  alone  may  know! 


And  how  with  mnj;;s  of  cider,  sweet  and  nullow. 
And  block  and  haiiinier  for  the  gather'd  store 
Of  t(>oth>onu'  nut<.  we'd  lie  arouncl  before 

The  fire  at  ni;^dit^.  and  hear  the  old  folks  tell  o* 
Red  Indians  an<l  bears,  and  the  Yankee  war — 

Long  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  fellow  ! 


74 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


|i|< 


THE  VETERAN. 

One  fjoofl  old  friend  I  had  in  Ixnhood's  days, 
Who  far  and  wide  ahmit  the  World  had  heen — 
Had  hattk>  fouj^ht,  and  -^W^cd  cities  seen, 

And  met  adventure  in  a  lliou^and  wavs, 

That  oft  he  tcld  to  me.  in  homely  plira^e, 

Uajdiazard.  like  his  carele-s  heart,  hut  clean: 
It  seem'd  to  can-  the  pains  that  rack'd  him  keen 

To  he  the  hero  of  my  childish  Jilay-. 

And  when  tluy  put  the  uU\  man  in  his  ^'^ve, 
1  mind  I  stood  beside — hut  did  not  see: 
For  thro'  a  hiur  of  tears  there  came  to  me 

A  vision  as  of  -unli,t,dit.  and  a  hrave 
Awaken "d  soul  outsailinj;  cheerily — 

Uplift  upon  a  wondrous  azure  wave. 


^trf*j'-nJ^;i,m 


wCM'^.. 


.-.•"-  i   Vrt     -u.-"-       -    -        -   ■   :';."-  '3-'--i  :"  -  --?-^■  r-.".  '-':_i(.. 


IN    AMBER    LAXDS 


75 


COQUITLAM. 

How  oft  I'd  steal  away,  in  hot  Julv, 

At  early  dawn,  thro"  dell  and  over  hill. 
To  hear  at  last  Coquitlain's  piirrinp^  rdl! — 

To  whip  the  riffles  with  some  paudv  fly. 

And  tempt  the  leaping  tnmt,  alert  and  shy! 
Munehing:  a  bit  of  chocolate  to  still 
My  hunpcr.  as  the  day  j^tcw  lonj;.  until 

The  sun  was  shining  low  upon  the  sky. 

Then,  proudly,  with  the  fish  that  I  had  cauglit, 
Go  trutlginj:::  home  for  man}  a  weary  mile, 
Full  certain  of  a  mother's  welcome  smile. 

And  that  she'd  choose  the  best  that  T  had  got, 
And  :)id  me  tell  her  all  about  it,  while 

'Twas  cook'd  up  for  my  supper  smoking  hot. 


r 


! 


w 


7C^ 


IX    AMDKR    LANDS 


THAT  OTHER  ONE. 


iff 


II 


I. 

T  ti<;efl  to  f:^n  to  Sunday  school 

\N'hcn  I  was  a  little  boy; 
I  said  my  catechism  pat 
Ahoiit  t!ic  wrath  to  come— and  that 

And  Iu)l\    kinds  of  jny  ; 
For  my  pntty  teacher  told  mc  sure 

H  1  didn't  learn  it  well 
God  some  day  woul.l  stick  me  down 

In  a  red-hot  hole  in  Hell. 

u. 
I  n-^ed  to  think  if  Cod  were  dead 

How  j^dad  the  World  would  he! 
How  all  the  solemn  an;:je!s.  up 
Where  ^-old  counts  less  than  a  buttercup 

Heside  the  Jaspar  Sea. 
Would  quit  their  endless  psalm-singincr 

And  chuck  their  harps  away  !— 
And  never  a  lonesome  cherub  would  cry 

Upon  God's  funeral  day! 


III. 


I  feh  there  was  some  Other  One, 
Who'd  waich  an<l  keep  it  right 
For  all  the  living  things  that  are 


From  the  grass  and  the  t] 


owers  to  the  farthest  star,— 


^ 


IN    AMI5KR    LAXDS 

Just  Whom  T  know  not  ([uitc: 
But  some  one  like  my  (Irandivutlier, 

Too  kind  to  ^i\v  a  rip 
Whether  I  went  to  Sunday  school 

Or  off  on  a  fishing  trip. 


77 


IV. 

Who'd  leave  the  Gates  of  Hell  unlock'd 

So  the  devils  cduld  all  cra^.  1  out 
And  the  hnrniui;  ■;h()^t^  and  t!      goblins,  too^ 

often  udnder'd  wliat  they'd  do 

If  they  could  look  aho   * 
And  see  the  trees  and  the  Sun  a^ain, 

And  feel  tlie  wind  <;o  by, — 
I  u^cd  to  think  tho-e  aching  things 

Would  be  so  glad  they'd  cry. 


V. 

Some  One  who'd  tix  old  Eden  up 

For  us  as  good  as  new : 
And  never  would  be  jealous  of 
( )ur  silly  souls  if  ue  -hould  love 

A  Golden  C;df  or  two; 
And  there  wouldn't  be  any   Forbidden  Tree; 

Hut  if  anything  went  wr<ing 
We'd  fifjht  it  out  among  ourselves 

Till  we  learned  to  get  along. 


78 


IX    AMHF.R    LANDS 


,  f 


VI. 

"When  I  was  a  cliild  I  thought  as  a  child' 

I-l'cn  so.  mwi]  I'.ifhcr  Paul! 
TUit  more  and  nuirc  it  scciiis  to  nic 
That  -onu  ,,{  the  tliinjjs  that  children  see 

Are  the  triu>t.  after  all. 
And  e'en  as  a  hahy  infidel 

This  poarl  of  f.nith  I  won, 
And  still  I  rest  content  therewith 

God  is  that  Other  One. 


ik  S^M  £  s  ^,  i4«ft.^tt. 


r^  r 


1. 


IN   AMBER    LANDS 


79 


HARD  TIMES  XO  MORE. 

The  desert  trail  hath  ended  in 

A  ^^ardcn  way  at  last : 
The  burden  uf  the  imn  years 

Of  uatvlcrintj  i■^  past  : 
Dear  Heart!  the  very  children  cry, 

Good-by,  Hard  Tinie>,  gf>od-by ! 

Hard  Times  come  aci^ain  no  more! 
Hard  Times  come  a^^ain  no  more! 
O  iiappy  children  of  the  Kinjj! 
Hear  them  sin^\  sini;,  ^inj,' — 

Hard  Times  come  a^ain  no  more! 

How  little  in  the  Wilderness 

The  great  rtlicf  i-  giie-^'d ! 
Where  seek  the  weary  midtitude 

Continually  for  rot ! 
And  dream  not  how  it  ijrawetli  nigh — 

Good-by,  Hard  Times,  go<3d-l)v  ! 


Hard  Times  come  again  no  more ! 
Hard  Times  come  again  no  more ! 
O  hapf)y  children  of  the  King! 
Hear  them  ^ing,  >ing,  -ing. 

Hard  Times  come  again  no  more! 


11 


8o 


IN'    A.MIII.R    LAXDS 


=*'.*.? 


^;.-xi 


V: 


:*-'-■- 


:i 


The  tilings  tliat  -c'cnrd  a-  shadows  once 

Alone  art-  ri-.il  Iuti'  : 
The  j,'Iorii-  of  i])v  I'runii^cd  Land 

Sliine  (itit  before  lis,  dear! 
And  we  sliail  inter,  you  and  I, — 

Good-l»y,  Hard  Tinier,  guud-by! 


Hard   Tiling  come  af,'ain  no  more! 
Hard   Tiiius  conu-  ai,'ain   no  more! 
()  liapjiy  eliiidren  of  the  Kin;^'! 
Hear  them  -inl,^  sinj,'.  ^luir. 
Hard  Times  conic  again  no  more! 


ii 


ISIjlIii 


It    Ji!l2i*^;i 


•   --T- 


V  ^1 


IX    AMI5RR    LAXDS 


8i 


MOTHER. 

I. 

There's  a  v.. in-  t:;at  I  have  heard 

Al(.n<,r  thr  Way  of  I.ifo, 
A  voice  that  -.luiileth  only 

When  my  voiil  i-  worn  uiili  >trife, 
W'lun  I  fal!  in  lUtrr  weakness 

(  )n  tin-  -toii\  cii-IIf^s  -tiTp, 
Some  one  c<<nK-  and  whispers  to  me 

'"Sleep,  ehild,  ^k-fp  I" 

It. 

'Ti>  the  Motlicr  of  n-  all 

riiat  croi.iuth  tu  mr  then, 
."^ootliinL,-^  iiK'   witli   vi-iotis 

And  dn-ams  hiyoiid  m\  ken. 
With  a  Mii)^  I  ,lo  „<.t  midiTstand, 

Whose  words  I  cannot  keci), 
Only  the  hurden  of  her  song — 

"Sleep,  child,  slotp!" 


ttT. 


O  Mother— holy  Mother! 

(^  Mother  of  m\  souI ! 
Shtnili!  (lav  di  partinL,--  leave  me 

Afar  otY  from  inv  L;oaI. 


u< 


t  I 


1!» 
i 


:i^ 


83 


IN'  am(u;k  i..\xr)s 


Ia-I  Ilk'  I'.ill  .1-.  a  wrakliii^  hack 
I II  tli\   l-')-Mii),  ilini  aii'l  iki'i) ! 

Afiil  ii\r  iii\    faiiiui-  ulii^pcr  only 
"SltTp.  child— sleep!" 


rCI|II^ci^Ur>iUt*Ii>:L  itflMialLX^afi 


Tm^..mm^ 


-:m^^.s^.=^^ 


.^|^•VTV|'^ 


IN    AMCLR    LANDS 


^6 


THE  d[u:a.m  of  thk  i)i:r:p. 

"We  wake  aiiil  find  ()iir>.clvt.->  rm  a  ^tair ;  there  are 
stairs  below  ii-  uliicli  wc  -cmi  to  lia\f  a^cciidi-d ; 
there  are  stairs  u],"\v  u-.  many  .i  .lU',  whicli  {^o  up- 
ward and  out  of  >ii;hi.  " — limcrson. 


Lo,  the  Deep  hatli  (IrcatuM  a  dream 

Of  omen  .sil)\lhiu' ! 
An  endk-s  tlow  of  endless  dust 
Wherein  unniitnlRr'd  ,i;ods  arc  thrust, 

Who  wrilhv  uneven. 

II. 

And  Mind  and  dumb  tlioy  or  the'ein 

And  find  nor  rc-t  nor  ea^e ; 
From  stupor  rous'd  by  (|uciu-h!css  hist 
For  that — they  know  not  what — that  dust 

Can  ne'er  appea>e. 

in. 

And  writhing  so,  they  wreak  tlie  (hist 

To  shapes  of  f1or  and  faun. 
That  rise  and  fall  and  ri'-o  anew, 
Cniniblinij,  aye,  as  the  j;ods  reel  tliroU!:jh, 

I'ntil — anon — 


»  ;■ 


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_i;^X.v^.^*X. 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST   CHART 

ANS    >   .d  ISO  TEST  CHAPT  No    2 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


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t  m 

t  m 

)-  |40 


1.4 


1= 

2.2 
2£ 

1.8 

1.6 


^^.  'fiS    tuil    Mot    =,!r,c! 

— ^™  ''ocheste^  Ne*     orh        '4609       uSA 

'..^S  ""6i   482  -  0300  -  c^onc 
^S:  "6;    288  -  5989  -  Fa. 


i' 


84  IX    AMBER    LANDS 

rv. 

A  few  see  tliro'  tlit-  murky  reek 
What  '.pirall'tl  pathway  looms 
In  Tiiaii  reacho.  coil  on  coil ; — 
But  the  wise  gods  know  'tis  bitter  with  toil 
And  link'd  with  tombs ! 


Yet  the  air  grows  clear  as  they  climb,  and  keen 

With  perfume  of  numl)erless  flowers; 
With  pas-ion  of  pleasure  and  poison  of  pain, 
And  tang  of  things  ta.ted  again  and  again 
Thro'  the  endless  hours. 


■i 


m 


VI. 

But  ever  they  feel  one  soimdiess  urge 

Ominous  under  all, 
As  wrought  from  the  primal  uncontent 
Of  some  abysmal  banishment 

Bevond  recall. 


VII. 

Nor  purple  bowers  of  idleness, 

Nor  all  the  feasts  of  Time, 
Can  free  the  gods  of  their  grim  unrest, 
Nor  lure  them  from  the  awful  quest 
Whereon  thev  climb. 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


85 


VIII. 

The  ages  pa^^s.  and  they  find  no  end, 

And  vain  it  all  doth  ?eem : 
Yet  :-ti!l  they  toil  fcr  a  topnio-t    tair 
Whereon  to  wake — somehow — somewhere- 

Beyond  the  dream. 


h    l\ 
1  If 


fl 


sr, 


IX    AMBER    LANDS 


fi 
It 


THE  SEER. 

If  I  have  seen  the  Gods— the  primal  Three 
Who  play  a  game  that  hath  no  goal  in  view- 
W  he  riiakf.  (Ic^tmy,  and  cvcriiKirc  renew 

Within  the  ]r,i:.l)lc  Space  all  things  that  Ik^— 

Why  shonld    1   halt  and  labor  ^ohcrlv. 

Or  care  to  have  men  find  my  vision  true? 
Enough,  (kar  Heart,  if  1  impart  to  vou 

The  vast  a-Mirance  that  it  gives  to  me! 

Their  muddy  hrain^  would  make  it  all  a  lie, 
Tlio'  with  mort  golden  words  I  told  it  o'er; 
So  much  Tvc  seen  that  I  must  see  yet  more 

\MuIe  Time  still  gives  occasion.    Then  to  die, 
Let  loose,  and  on  my  single  way  explore 

The  unimagin'd  orbits  of  the  Skv ! 


IN   AMBER    LANDS 


87 


THE  BUTTERFLY. 


Summertime,  and  a  \v3?tcd  -hroud.  and  the  sunlight 
glancinc:  throi  ch 

And  the  -tir  rf  3.  rreepinc^  thing  withal; 
Thinking-  to  crawl, — 
It  flew. 

II. 

As  if  a  yellow  pan^-y   from  it-   .tern  hud  loos'd  and 
flown. 

1.'])  it  fli;tter'd,  scarce  aware, 
Thro'  crystal  air 
Unknown. 


in. 

To  find  the  narrow  world  that  was  now  blossom'd 
endless  wide: 

And,  sailing  on  its  saflron  wings, 
Soon  wondrous  things 
It  spied. 

IV. 

Around  were  honied  feasts  all  set  in  the  hearts  of  a 
thousand  flowers ; 

And  merry  mates  to  while  away 
In  wanton  play 
The  hours. 


If 


88 


IX    A.Mi;i        LAXDS 


v. 


With  them  it  flriitc<!.  uiii.t;  a  lant,  on  veering  winds  at 
case. 

Or  \i,-nturM  cool  luxurious  flight> 
To  the  curving  heights 


Of  t 


ree; 


VI. 


t 


Or  lone  amirl  the  pink  (klicin„.  p,.tal>  of  a  ruse 
Anon  'twoiil.l   Iin,-ir  Mjninolcnt 
111  tlx-  rajit  coutrnl 
Which  knows 


\n. 


Xo  cn.l  to  leaves,  no  en.l  to  nuwu-.,  and  th.c  sweet 
gra:>  rndcr  all  : 

Then  re\(_I  a"ain  v.  itii  it;  ;;iry  clan 
Till  ni'dit  hegan 
To  fall.  ' 


VIII. 

'Tuould  cling  in  careless  .lumLcr  then  to  the  nearest 
scented  lirakc. 

Or  as  the  dusky  hours  wore  on 
Perchance  annu 
'Twould  wake 

IX. 

With  star-enamor-d  kin.nien  to  explore  a  mvstic  noon. 
\\  ingui-  a   far.  entranced  flight 

In.   li  c  |.-,M    li,,|it 
Of  the  Moon. 


i*l^tM  t  JcU  1  lt«*-l'H  M  a  uii  :  ti£-.:.  .111^.  >  jrt 


IN    A.\li;i£R    LANDS 


89 


X. 


To  settle  at  Icnsrtli  awcario.;  in  some  lily-chalice  pale; 
Nor  uakfii  till  fiill-hrca-ttd  Morn 
Ro?e  breathing  warm 
And  hale. 


XI. 

So  passed  for  it  the  ca-y  hours ;  but  Summer  waned  at 
last, 

And  its  Hower-body  fell  away 
As  a  hu>k  one  dav 
Offcast. 

xn. 
Yet  surely  a^  before  it  knew  a  joyous  wakening, 
So  on  some  new  and  far-away 
Exultant  day 
In  Spring 

XIII. 

Another  form  shall  build  ittelf  from  out  the  formless 
Deep; 

For  outer  life  befitting  well 
The  thing  that  fell 
A.>lccj). 

XIV, 

For  in  the  loom  of  things  to  be  the  meanest  life  hath 
place 

To  mark  the  way  that  it  >hall  go, — 
By  patterns  slow 
To  trace 


n 


m 


3' 


icbg*e«^'.o-  ,ir 


90 


IX   AMBER   LANDS 


i  -<■'     i 


XV. 


Its  long  ascent  tliro'  Dust  and  Death  to  God's  infinity; 
And  evermore  the  seed  unseen 
Of  wlint  Iiatli  been 
Shall  be. 


f?flIB'ilWtii*ia4«i»^ii/iLHf3TWi 


L\    A.MBEK    LANDS 


yi 


NIRVANA. 

Dow  n  the  ages  comci  a  sound  grown  dark 
W'ith  unrcmcmbcr'd  meaning.     Many  heard 
Fall  from  tlic  lip?  of  One  illumM  a  word 

Who-^c  (liiuhtful  go-ptl  -ccniM  to  (|in.'nch  all  -park 

Of  separate  love  and  joy.  wit!i  promise  stark. 
If  from  tluir  patient  heart-,  -till  I'.tideterr'd 
They  rooted  all  desire — the  boon  eonferr'd 

Should  be  to  pass  from  Lif^-  without  a  mark. 


Old  devotees,  dream  on!     Oil  -cholars,  nod 
Over  the  meanm::  of  the  Indian  .'a"c! 
But  I,  awakening  in  a  later  age, 

Choose  not  the  deserts  whore  Hi-  saints  have  trod, 
Nor  cleave  to  ancient  rites  or  holy  page; 

Singing  on  my  careless  way  to  God. 


^)2 


IX    A.MLER    LANDS 


ILLUMINED. 


f 


(•.  { 


m^fi 


i«  * 


1^ 


1  woke  in  the  Lanl  of  Night. 

Witli  a  fircam  of  Da>  at  my  heart; 
It'"  ^'oldcii  omiino  vaiii-hM, 

Hut  its  c'larni  unnld  nnt  depart: 
Like  nni.-ic  still  rcir.ainiii^-. 

I!iit  it-  iiicaiiinL;- — no  man  can  -av 
In  tho  Lau.l  of  \i-l,t  wlur,.  tiny  know  not 

Of  Day,  nc^r  llic  thiny^  uf  Day. 

H. 
I  dwelt  in  the  chii'f^.st  city 

Of  all  the  Land  of  Night ; 
Wlicre  the  fires  bnrn  ever  brighter 

That  r/ivo  the  n<*np]o  I'crht ; 
Where  the  sky  abovcf  is  darkcn'd, 

And  never  a  Star  is  seen. 
And  they  think  it  but  children's  fancy 

That  ever  a  Star  hath  been. 


III. 

I^iit  out  from  that  city  early 
I  fled  by  a  doubtful  way; 

And  falterin-  oft  and  lonely 
I  sought  my  dream  of  Day; 


f»r«|»ic%s 


BrnrnrsTTTJi 


>.-;j  ►(T  ■ --jStg-  --^i^i 


IS    AMCKR    LANDS 

Till  F  canu-  at  la-l  t.>  a  M.>riii.uii 
That  rii-i-  fxiifiliiii;  liiui'i. 

And  1  tlionijlit  I  -asv  uii  it>  -uiiimil 
A  glint  a>  <'f  (lawn  truni  the  ~k\. 

IV. 

'Twas  midway  on  that  Mountain 

That  I  found  an  altar--tono, 
Deep-cut  with  runc<  fortrotteii. 

And  symbols  little  known  ; 
And  scarce  could  I  read  the  meaning 

Of  the  let,an<l>  carveii  there. 
But  I  lay  me  out  <jn  that  altar, 

Breathing;  an  ancient  prayer : 


03 


"By  the  God  of  the  timeless  Sky, 

0  Saint  of  the  Altar,  say 
What  gift  hast  thou  for  me? 

For  I  have  dream'd  of  Day: 
But  I  seek  nor  jjift  nor  [)ower, 

1  pray  for  naufjht  hut  light ; 
And  only  for  light  to  lea  1  me 

Out  of  the  Land  of  Night !" 


VI. 

Long  I  lav  on  that  altar, 

Up-gazing  fearfully 
Thn:)"  the  awful  cold  and  darkness 


94 


'x  ami?i;k'  i.wus 


M); 


I 


If 


I  li.it  mnv  flic. im|i,-|,/,l  ,,n- ; 
Till  it  McmM  as  I  wcro  lying  druwn'd 
I  'ii'Irr  a  lifeless  sea. 


TIkiv  s|„„ic'  as  a  pale  I.luc  Star, 

fnlaii,-il)k— siTciiL' — 
An.j  I  saw  a  spark  fn.iii  it  fall 

As  it  ucrc  a  cr\stal  kicii ; 
And  it  tlasir,!  as  it  fdl  an.l  picrc'd 

My  ttiiiplfs  uliitf  and  cold: 
Then  round  that  altar-tniic  „ncc  more 

Tlic  awful  darkness  rull'd. 


virr. 

Put  there  was  a  iiifht  on  my  brow, 

And  a  calm  that  stccl'd  mc  throuj^h. 
And  I  was  stiunj,-  with  a  strength 

That  never  k'fore  I  knew; 
\\'itli  a  strenL;th  for  the  tracklcs.  heifrhts, 

And  scorn  of  the  World  below— 
I?iit  I  rose  not  np  from  that  altar-stone, 

I  would  not  leave  it  so 


!t 


IX. 


"O  Saint  .,f  the  Altar,  say 

How  may  this  !it;|,t  redeem' 
For  tho'  on  my  brow  like  a  jewel 


IX    AMIII'K    LANDS 


95 


If»  Star  liatli   lift  .1  ^Ir.iiii. 
0  Saint,  'li-  :i  lii,''it  Uxt  culil  atnl  cruel 
To  be  tlic  liglit  uf  my  drcaiii !" 


X. 

Anon  'hva^  a  criiiiMjn  Star 

That  oviT  the  Altar  -liofu*. 
And  tlitTc  sank  a^  a  ro-c  of  flame 

To  my  hi  art  trc  the  Star  wa^  j^onc; 
And  oiii  from  tlie  t1aiiK-«  tliereiif 

A  ^uhtlc  frai^ranci-  then 
Went  >ti.'ahnj;  down  the  mountain-side 

U'er  the  luwly  ways  uf  men. 

XI. 

The  Star  was  p^nnc.  but  it  hroupht 

To  hpht  in  it>  crimson  t^low 
The  lovely  tliin{;js  forj^ottcn 

I  drcam'd  of  lonjjj  aijo ; 
And  gladly  then  I  had  j^ivcn 

My  life  to  all  below  ; 
Yet  I  rose  not  up  from  that  altar-stone, 

I  would  not  leave  it  so. 


I:' 


'if 


Sir; 
it!!  f 


XII. 

And  at  last  was  a  .cfoldcn  Star ; 

But  I  scarce  know  how  nor  where; 
For  it  melted  all  nrotuid  me. 

And  the  other  Star-  were  tlicre ; 
And  "ill  in  one  bli-sf^il  moment 


■ 


'/^  I^'  A>rnnR  i.axds 

The  \\}rht  of  Day  lia.l  como  ;— 
Then  I  rcci'd  away  from  that  altar-stonc, 
( >Iii,  and  bhnil,  and  dinnlj. 


xrrr. 
I  dwell  acfain  in  the  city, 

I  seek  no  more  for  Ii,<,dit; 
But  I  go  on  a  mission  of  ><ilence 

To  those  who  would  leave  the  Xight; 
And  for  this— and  this  tiling  only. 

Thro"  the  evil   streets  I  stray"; 
I  \vho  am   free  to  the  timeless  Sky 

llluniind  forever  with  Dav. 


li. 


^™nrtf^f^fai3&75 


IN   AMBER    LANDS 


97 


III 


THE  CLUE. 

To  make  the  great  escape — to  issue  hence — 
To  live  no  more,  nor  dream  among  the  Dead 
Nor  be  with  endless  change  discomforted — 

Think  not  you  need  all  Time's  experience 

To  ponder  on  some  granite  eminence. 
Enough  in  any  life  to  find  this  thread, 
And  loosely  by  its  blended  strands  be  led: 

Unmeasur'd  Love  and  sheer  Indifference. 

Beloved !  would  you  have  me  wait  for  you — 
Your  fellow-pilgrim  on  the  formless  Way — 
And  waiting  seek  some  form  of  words  to  say- 
Some  novel  phrase  to  make  old  precepts  new 

And  draw  you  swiftly  nearer  to  me?    Nay, 
Mere  words  have  worth  no  more — you  have  the  Que ! 


!ti 


-       !_->   tf    -ri-_        :._  -^    ,   ^  .  ' J  _^ 


fe^i 


98 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 


.3^-y 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE. 


I 


A  star-eyed  captive,  in  a  lonely  tower, 

Look'd  o'er  a  lake  outspread  in  sullen  gloom, 
Illumin'd  with  infrequent  lily  bloom. 

There  wayward  Zephyrs  sounded  hour  by  hour 

Upon  a  harp  whose  pure  Eolian  power 

Beguil'd  him,  as  he  paced  his  haunted  room, 
To  song's  ne'er  heard  before — voicing  a  doom 

That  from  the  very  Heavens  seemed  to  lour. 


'Ml 


He  sang  the  songs  of  Death  till  Death,  his  theme, 
Engulf'd  him  in  that  Night  of  Mystery 
Wherein  so  often  he  had  peer'd  to  see 

The  trail  of  vanish'd  Love — the  Elysian  gleam 
L^pleading  to  a  starry  destiny — 

Twipkling  from  the  very  gates  of  Dream. 


>  X  »J  ^M^  «  »  » 


^K.^^C,,i«^^r^v:\-rC"^;J, 


*Rf3'^^-3fc  -m-^§' 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 


99 


IDLEWILD. 

I. 

Once  in  the  land  of  the  Maple, 
In  the  niithiiost    \immin  time, 

The  nicllow.  \vanin<;.  yellow, 
Indian  Minimer  time, 

With  tile  maid  Estelle  I  stray'd 

Tu  i;atiicr  leaves  in  a  lonely  glade 
Afar  in  the  forest  of  Idlewild — 
Forgotten  Idlewild. 


if 


II. 

And  we  linger'd  there,  for  we  sought 

'l"he  choicest  of  the  leaves ; 
'Twas  hard  to  clioose,  and  we  could  not 

Decide  on  the  lovelier  leaves; 
But  all  that  dying  Indian  day. 
While  it  waned  and  waned  awav, 

How  they  floated  round  tts.  glinting 
In  the  amber  li,i,dit,  and  tinting 
All  the  aislo  of  Idlewild ! 
All  the  aisles  and  liidden  places 
W'here  the  forest  interlaces 

O'er  the  paths  in  Idlewild! 

I  low  they  vanidi'd.  strangely  hinting 
Of  the  silent  other  spaces 


lit 


lu 


loo  IN   A.MI!I:R   laxds 

More  remote  in  Idlcwild  ! 
Fell  nr  vani-liM.  ever  liinting 
Of  the  -eeret  that  eflfaees 
All  the  joy  of  Idlewikl ! 

in. 

Till  the  Gates  of  the  West  were  opcn'd — 
Oh !  tlie  Gates  of  the  West  are  wide ! 

And  the  aniher  li^ht  sank  down  and  flow'd 
Away  in  a  w  ine-red  tide  : — 

Away  thro'  the  forest  of  Idlcwild 
In  a  wine-red,  weird  tide. 

IV. 

But  the  leaves  drank  deep  till  they  drain'd 
The  wiiie-lis:lit  out  of  the  West  ;— 

The  last  of  the  wine,  till  it  stain'd 

Their  hearts  with  the  hues  of  the  West,- 
With  the  hectic  hues  of  the  West. 


nl 


Ah,  now  in  the  land  of  the  Maple, 

In  the  midmost  Autumn  time, 
'1  he  mellow,  waninj^.  yellow, 

Indian  summer  time. 
Disconsolate  I  roam 

Afar  within  the  aisled, 
Olden,  silent,  i^olden 

Forc^t  of  Idlcwild, — 
Forest  of  lonely  memories  only,— 

Silent  and  golden-aisled. 


rW^'mmm^'mM' 


IN    AMP.l'R    LANDS 


lOI 


VI. 

But  I  find  therein  no  >olacc  save 

At  a  spot  made  Imly  with  tears; 
At  a  siiot  wliere  the  ancient  l)ranchcs  wave 
O'er  the  pale-^t  dead  that  ever  they  pave 

To  that  forest  made  h^ly  with  tears. 
Anfl  the  hour-  pa>s  there  unlieeded  hy 
As  I  dream  o'er  the  remnant  leaves  tliat  lie 
Strewn  from  the  (hm  receding  years 
Deep  on  lier  grave. 


VII. 

O,  Estclle.  beloved ! 

Maid  of  my  heart's  one  dream! 
Thy  vision  thro'  far  Elysian 

X'ista*^  T  sec  in  my  dream  ; — 
\'istas  that  loom  thro'  the  nltimatc  West, 
Wherein  thy  soul  hath  sank  to  rest ; — 

O  richer  than  life  in  a  dream  sublime. 

Beyond  the  tremor  and  touch  of  Time! 


m 


Hii 


iiil 


102 


IX  a.mbi:r  lands 


] 

i! 


THE  ji;\vi:l  that  ca.me. 
I. 

Once  an  artlcs-  mai<Icn, 

I'air  and  ^woct, 
Knelt  too  low,  they  sav. 

At  an  idol's  feet, — 
Ju^t  the  ii-na!  idol 

Made  of  the  u^\v.\]  clay. 
That  went  to  dn-t  entirely 

In  the  nsiial  way. 

11. 

Ala-  and  alas  for  a  maiden 

Put  to  -corn  ! 
/k\]  soij'd  witli  the  dii-t  of  her  idol, 

And  left  forlorn  ! 
But  in  the  dust  she  found 

A  jewel  one  day — 
A  jewel  of  wondrous  beauty, 

So  thcv  sav. 


III. 

Then  she  sane: :     "Xow  little  I  care 

For  the  World  so  cruel ; — 
O  what  were  the  World  to  mc 

Witho  't  iny  jewel! 
I'or  thi  —  an,  this  is  the  lieart 

(  M  my  idol  of  olav  ! 
Arid  1  11  keep  it  and  love  it  forever 

Whatever  they  say!" 


'■^^^^^^r^^^^^^^p. 


IX    AMr.KR    LANDS 


i03 


NOCTURNE. 


'Tvvas  in  a  f^ardcn  of  the  rich 
W'hrrc  all  were  c:;tic-t-^  tf)  roam 
L)i)\\n  tcrrarnl  la\vii-~  aiiiiil  the  gluam 
<  If  a  iii^ht  in  June. 

II. 

Ciallant>  c:ay.  with  la(He>  (hp;ht 
In  -ilk  attire,  wire  there  ; 
Iiut  alien  fine  an<l  dehonaire 
Stotxl  one  alone. 

III. 
Anil  (if  that  tlironi;  I  knew  not  which 
(.'onld  claim  ^iicli  coii-in   fair; — 
Akin  she  seemM  to  the  merest  air 
C)f  a  ni':;ht  in  June. 

IV. 

An  orchid  liorn  of  the  younp^  moonlip;ht 
That  trails  thro'  trojjic  bowers; 
I  found  her  'mun<(  those  Northern  flowers 
So  all  alone, 


Till  our  hostess,  with  a  smile, 
Came  and  l-d  nie  to 

That  orchi<l-iiiaicl — and  then  all  through 
Tliat  night  m  June 


104 


IX    A.Mi:i:R    LAX  us 


VI. 


TluTc  ranio  iionf  other  to  my  sifjht ; 
'I  lir    oilirl    oraiiL;!'    ^'Io\v 
Of  laiikm-  lit  a  path  to  go 
Off  alune 


\  ir. 


W'licrc  I)ron7c<l   Mexicans  the  while 
( )n  maiKJohii-.  (Hij  play 
Love  tuiKs  nf  Spain  that  -cciiiM  to  say 
That  niqlit  in  June: 


viir. 

"O  Scnorita  of  Delight! 

Lo,  the  hour  of  hliss! 

Lo,  the  years  liave  bloomed  for  this 

This  alone! 

IX. 

'X'o  carven  Saint  in  marble  niche 
That  pilgrims  kneel  before ; — 
No  dream  of  Eldorado's  shore 
On  nights  in  June 


'Can  lure  across  the  tossing  seas 
With  promise  more  divine 
Than  can  the  beauty  that  is  thinc- 
Thine  alone. 


.i 


'mm^^m^^m^ 


I.\    A.\ll;i:u    LAX  US 


lo: 


XI. 


"I/),  tlii-  j^ardcn  of  the  rich 
Matic  wide  for  ih.  and  free! 
W'itli  all  tlu'  cTc-cc'iit  uifclicry 
( )f  a  iii.^lu  in  June! 


XII. 


".And  lo,  the  overarcliinq;  trees 
Tliat  cover  n'^   frotn  NJi^htJ 
O  Senorita  uf  I)elij,dit  I 

Here — alone!" 


m 


I 


M' 


m 


tf 


lot) 


IX  .\mi;i:k  lands 


Tin-:  WANTON  YACHT. 


ri 


I. 

Over  tiic  sia  at  siin>et 

1   licanl  ^ui'ft  niiisic  rinp^, 
And  I  ^a\v  a  wliitc  yacht  sailinfj, 

Aiifl  I  licard  a  fair  crew  siiifr; 

llravchcart^ !     Sweethearts ! 

\Vc  sail  the  Wanton  Yacht ; 
Ami  an\  where  and  everywhere 
That's  far  away  and  faint  and  fair 
Is  the  goal  of  the  Wanton  \'acht ; 
Yo  ho! 
For  the  goal  of  the  Wanton  Yacht ! 


I 


II. 

And  long  T  stay'd  to  hear 

Their  songs  that  came  to  me 
Ont  of  tlie  deepening  twilight, 

Ovci    he  purple  sea  : 

P.ravehearts !     Sweethearts ! 

We  sail  the  Wanton  Yacht, 
Free  as  the  wave  and  the  careless  breeze. 
With  only  our  hearts.  Sweethearts,  to  please, 
On  the  deck  of  the  Wanton  Yacht, 
Yo  ho! 
For  the  deck  of  the  Wanton  Yacht ! 


WHiiiilfiigU 


IN    AMDLK    LANDS 


107 


111. 


Till  the  hhic  of  the  Summer  ni.cht 
Circw  <larl<  likf  a  -ap[)liire  -totu-. 

And  the  \Ach\  \va-  liid  tri>in  inv  -iRht, 
As   1   ^aiiL'  1)V   tile   ~<.a  al'iiir: 


Hravchcart^  I     SuiTthcart^ ! 

Sail  iiti  in  the  Wanton  >'aclit ! 
And  unnid  that  I  \v«rf  with  yon  this  ni^ht ! — 
With  \  I  null  and  I've  an  I  tlir  Iikkc  delight 
C)f  life  vn  tlu'  Wantdii  N'acht— 
v..  ho! 
I'or  life  on  the  Wanton  Yacht! 


io8 


IN    AMULK    LANDS 


FAREWELL. 


'1 


I. 


I  will  not  seek  tlicc  for  mine  own, 
I  would  nnt  mar  thy  fato ; 

I  will  iidt  Iirtatlu-  (inc  vain  regret 
That  we  liavc  met  too  late. 


11. 


I  will  not  venture  now  to  hope 
Thy  path  may  interwine 

I'y  >-weet,  nnseen  and  ^•ecret  ways 
In  happier  days  with  mine. 


11:  ■' 


III. 


But.  Lady,  I  would  have  thee  know 

This  once  ere  we  do  j)art 
Since  first  I  met  thee  thou  hast  been 

An  idol  in  my  heart, 


IV. 


Before  whose  solitary  shrine, 
\\  lun  Xij:;ht  o'ercometh  me. 

My  ^oiil  yit  keeps  one  crim^-on  jijleam 
To  dream  and  dream  of  thee. 


'L- 


'..a4«i^ 


t:TfjtM»Mj»fifMjit-aMi 


IN  .\mi;i:r  land:; 


109 


V. 


To  drtain  what  now  tlinu  mayNt  not  hear, 

W'liat  now  1  may  not  tell; — 
Ah,  I.aiiy  mine,  tlm-e  drtam-^  arc  |)a>>t 

With  tlii> — my  ia^-t  farewell! 


no 


i\    AMCKR    LAXiJ»S 


THE  ARDOR  ARABESOUE. 


'Twas  in  an  arbor  arabesque 

Wlu-rc  laii.L;liiij,r  \  iiK>  did  -crccn 
From  watchful  eyes.  I  met  tbee  fir>t. 
O  wan  and  w  ilcllinL,^  pa.-sion-cur-t 
J  rcne  I 

H. 

Thy  kinsmen  kept  thee  from  the  World, 

Cold  as  a  elui^icT'd  maid, 
DcstinM   f(jr  -old  and   hi-h  de-^rec, 
And  dctm'd  their  iron  will  bv  thcc 
Obey'.]. 


i 


III. 

A  flower  to  l)loom  in  statclv  halls. 

Ancestral  and  alone. 
They  thought  thee  all  too  chill  and  pure 
To  break  the  seal  of  love's  allure 
Unknown. 

IV. 

Ah.  witching  one  I     I  pled-c  thee  still 
For  the  ruddy  wanton  tide 


1^1 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


III 


That  flush'd  the  virgin  veins  in  thee 
With  young  desire  that  would  not  be 
Denied ! 


That  wclcom'd  me  in  the  wandering  days 

When  once.  h\   starry  cliance. 
I  fiumd  thtH-  in  that  Xurthern  wold 
Reading  an  (  )rient  rhyme  uf  old 
Romance ! 


VI. 

Ohiivifuis  to  all  el'^e  1>eside, 

Thine  eyes  were  dreaming  o'er 
A  quaintly  i>ictur'd  open  Ix^ok 
Of  tales  once  told  to  Lalla  Rookh 
Before 

VII. 

Her  minstrel  lover  left  her  side, 
In  humhle  gui'-e  grown  dear, 
To  claim  her  where  hi:^  palace  tower'd 
W^ithin  the  vale  of  rose-embower'd 
Kashmir. 


VIII. 


But  what  to  me  that  day  were  all 
The  songs  of  minstrelsy? — 


112 


IX    AMI'.ER    LANDS 


Of  mai(K  wlio  sii;li"(l  and  knijcjhts  who  dared 
In  ancient  ilay.-^? — I  (jnly  cared 
To  sec 


\i  ! 


IX, 

Thy  silken  hammock  swinp^-ing  low, 

In  crimson  tannics  \vroujT;lit ; — 
Thy  hody  ciirvinj^f  light  and  free 
Within  its  yielding;  tracery ; — 
Mcthuu^ht 


No  houri-liannt(.'d  howcr  uphuilt 

I'.y  dreaming'  Saracene 
E'er  greater  ho.uity  did  enshrine, 
Or  loveline->  surpassing  thine, 
Irene ! 


XI. 

Long  'neath  the  vine-clad  arch  I  stay'd 

Of  that  sweet  solitude; 
Scarce  breathing. — so  T  found  thee  fair, 
I  would  not  then  retreat,  nor  dare 
Intrude. 


U 


XII. 


Whcio  sle]it  thy  haughty  kinsman  then, 
The  while  T  watch'd  unseen. 


rsSBOaS^^SB 


IN    AMCER    l-AXDS 

The  tang  of  tlnj^c  love  talcs  inspire 
Tliy  uillinij  lifitiy  as  with  fire, 
Irene? 

xni. 

No  rumor  of  the  World  was  there; 

I'lit  round  u-  ^eeni'd  to  tloat 
A  low  Eolian  und-.rtone 
From  gloom  of  royal  gardens  blown 
Remote. 

XIV. 

And  when  at  last  T  venturM  in. 

What  words  I  found  to  say 
I  know  udt  now — 1  only  know 
Thine  eyes  grew  --oft,  thy  v(jice  sank  low, 
That  (lav. 


"3 


XV. 

Yet  how  for  me  thy  Inc  did  swift 

As  some  wild  rose  unfold 
Under  the  Sun  of  Sumniertime, — 
Ah,  this  may  not  in  idle  rhyme 
Be  told ! 


XVI. 

But  there  were  days — sweet  stolen  days 
Ere  dawn'd  the  wretched  morn 


114 


IX    AMCER    LAXDS 


h 


That  saw  tliat  arlxir  (Ic^olate, 
And  tlicc-  con>i<,'n'(l  to  j^ihlcd  fate, — 
Forlorn. 


XVII. 

That  l)ani-h'(i  nif  to  roam.  Irene. 

rpon  this  harri'ii  shore; 
Thou  haNt  thy  i,'oI(l  and  his^h  degrec- 
I  go  my  way  arid  hear  of  thee 
No  more. 


xvrii. 


Klf 


Yet  still  in  memor\   thou  art  mine, — 

.^till  OIK'  Aiid^iniinicr  nij^ht 
For  me  is  ,c^Iimineriiiy^  in  the  past 
With  tile  passion  of  its  last 
Delight. 


XIX. 


When  the  elfin  zcpliyrs  follow'd  thee, 

And  their  halmy  breath  du\  steep 
All  the  dusk  and  sultry  air 
That  waver'd  softly  round  us  there 
With  sleep. 


XX. 


For  on  that  night— that  only  night— 
When  thou  wast  mine,  Irene! 


rT^i»^LS-^^zj 


-js^gj^r 


IN    AMBER   LANDS 

When  thou  did'st  lavish  all  thy  cliarms 
On  mc,  and  tremble  in  my  arms, 
And  lean 

XXI. 

Back  in  glad  abandon  to 

My  passionate  embrace, 
Love  leapt  to  tlame  that  all  thy  tears 
Could  not  tl.cn  quench,— nor  after  years 
Efface. 

XXII. 

Out  of  the  arbor  arabesque. 

In  the  deep  Midsummer  night, 
I  saw  thee  pass,  and  it  scem'd  the  gleam 
Of  a  falling  star,— and  it  seem'd  a  dream 
In  flight. 

XXIII. 

O  wan  Irene,  so  far  from  me! 
I  know  not  where  thou  art ; 
But  I  love  thee,  and  I'll  love  thee  till 
Death's  final  hand  shall  touch  and  still 
My  heart! 

XXIV. 

Nay,  through  the  night  of  the  afterdeath, 

And  the  ghastly  vast  ravine, 
'Gainst  all  obstructions  of  the  dead 
I'll  win  some  way  to  thee,  dream-led, 
Irene ! 


115 


.    'i 


ii6 


IN   AMUER   LAiXDS 


-**a* 

i 

f<iM 

f)-^ 

li 

1; 

^1 

I 

hi 


MORPHIA. 

r. 

I  woke  to  find  me  lying  in 

A  lonely  desert  place, 
Where  ever-shiftinp:  silver  sands 

Caress'd  my  hands  and  face ; 
Of  hill  or  tree  or  human  thing 

I  saw  no  sign  or  trace. 


r  i! 


t'  t 


n. 

But  the  lovely  dreams  that  children  dream 

Were  never  half  so  fair: 
Oh.  to  that  lone  awakening 

I  can  no  thing  compare! 
I  laugh'd  for  mere  delight  to  breathe 

The  moving  golden  air. 

III. 

I  kiss'd  my  naked  arms,  my  heart 

With  subtle  rapture  beat 
When  shapely  hands,  blue-vein'd  and  wan, 

I  laid  upon  my  feet: 
The  trickling  sands  upon  them  seem'd 

Like  waters  cool  and  -wcct 


csott'nuai 


imnniifiufi 


»ill\mj^»U  t:^t»xx* 


IX    AMRER    LANDS 


117 


And  loo.-cl;    I  \\a-  clad  in  white. 

With  a  uirdic  at  my  wai-t: 
And  from  111/  ^r.•>;l  ;ccm\l  e\ory  .-tain 

Of  care  .in^I  p.iin  ciTaociI : 
A  noddin--  urc-.'ith  oi  pupi';  dowers 

Upon  my  Lruw  \va^  placed. 


And  long  I  look'd  in  -ilcncc  o'er 

The  :  ilvtry  c\i)aii^o  ; 
Anon  V. i'.h  iv.u  w'-  ^ift  employ 

I  (Vu\  my  joy  enhance  : 
No  -iren  e'er  had  -weeter  Vijicc 

To  c,dvc  it  utterance. 

VI. 

But  that — ah,  that  wouhl  not  suffice — 
The  more  I  ban-::  the  more 

Mcthon  dn  the  sand-  alluringly 
Did  lieckon  me  explore 

WTiat  .s])lendid  city  lay  heyond — 
What  foam-besprent  seashore ! 


VII. 

Then  up  I  rose  and  r-oueht  the  West, 
Wherein  the  Sun  ilcclinM : 

And  I'ght  and  merril\   I  Hew. 
While  ever  blew  bchiuil. 

Outspreading  wide  my  yellow  hair, 
A  perfume-laden  wind. 


ii8 


IN    AMCER    LANDS 


'U 


VIII. 

On  ani!  f  ii  and  ever  on, 
Witli  uliitc.  niitirinc;  feet; 

An'!  ever  ^aiid-  interni'nable 
Ne'er  flc'l  gazelle  so  il^ct 

To  find  what  faery  thin.c^  mipht  be 
Where  sky  and  desert  meet. 

IX. 

How  many  a  -ore  and  stricken  heart 
Mi,L;ht   tht-u  have  envied  inr 

That  -(Mithin.L;.  virj^in  (k-crt  land  I — 
Si)  li  nely  and  -i>  free  I 

Sechdsii'n  -weet  ciMninini.^led  all 
With  ^unlit  liberty. 

X. 

And  soon  with  scarce  a  motion  of 

My  own  I  smikd  to  find 
How  all  un.-triving  I  did  tly : — 

Then  reckless  I  resipn'd 
My  Ixidy  as  a  bnrden  blitlie 

Unto  the  eager  wind. 


11 


XI. 

And  on  ami  on  and  ever  on 

I  held  my  --tcady  way ; 
And  felt  the  jiassion  of  that  flight 

No  distance  might  allay  ; 
Not  e'en  the  stars'  sweet  benison 

At  ending  of  the  day. 


1\    AM  DICK    LANDS 


119 


XII. 

But  witli  amaze  I  >a\v  at  la>t 
How  huge  tlic  Sun  did  ihine ; 

And  thi5  a!--"!  I  marvcll'd  o'er — 
It  did  no  more  decline. 

But  red  and  ceri''  lincrer'd  on 
The  far  horizon  Une. 

xm. 
Yet  on  and  on  and  ever  on 

The  -ilvcr  ^ai^K   I   --i)urn"d. 
Til!  in  tlie  neariiiL;  \\\>tern  >ky 

Mv   t:ha.-tlv   eye   di-ceni'd 
What  aw  fid  tlanu-  were  writhing  where 

The  lecniiir.:  Sun  h:id  burn'd. 


XIV. 

And  from  those  flames  there  rear'd  aloft 
Envcnom'd  tmcke  and  fume; 

Riven  by  many  a  fiery  streak 
The  pitchy  reek  chd  loom 

Prodij^ious  thro'  the  night  that  lour'd 
Above  that  Fit  of  Doom. 


if 


XV. 

Then  went  the  sands  to  ashe>  gray 
That  smouldcr'd  'neath  my  feet; 

The  wind,  a  tempest  horrible, 
Now  baffled  all  retreat ; 

And  soon  upon  my  twitching  face 


T     /_U 


1 ,__: U-^ 


— o 


I20 


IX    A.ML'.Ek    LANDS 


I 


XVI. 

The  wrcnth  of  -carlet  poj^py  flowers 
Fell  withering  and  ricad : 

The  scars  upon  my  burnincj  brow 
WVrc  ^rnrKt  now  in^^tead  ; 

^My  girdle  to  a  ■^crpent  tiirn'd. 
With  fang'd  and  furv  head. 


xvir. 
And  all  my  hair,  now  a'-Iicn-"-; 


And 


ni< in-ircai .  ovt  rt^rovn, 
iii 


ray, 


That  ri'ri.I  in  the  rck'n^  nidit 
Wit!i  drear  afTrij-ht  had  0.r>\yn, 

Around  nic  in  all  ^tran-rhnry  shapes 
Of  pi-tilcncc  was  blown. 


Till 


xvirr. 

'I  c-anic  the  end  where  seems  no  end.— 

•My  hn.ly  ^way'd  and  whirlV! 
Frantic  ..n  the  lurid  cdq-c 

Whcr.'  rioll  doih  hedge  the  World;— 
Then  doun  the  ^rarlet  Pit  of  noom. 

Shrieking  to  Ck^d,  was  hurl'd ! 


fttn?lHAt  tUtflTItttl.gUl  riB'TU  miitii  u  t  unM  m^iu  i%  I  tui 


IX    AMP.FR    LANDS 


121 


ON  BEACON  HILL, 
British  Columbia. 

I. 

Pronr  on  a  t;rn.-v  knoll  whrrc  run---  the  sea 
In  from  llic  North  r.uifir.  cKop  and  blue, 
\\'h(Kf  ti  i(.-ri[it  uaUrs  many  a  century 
Tut  partid  fnr  the  painted  war  canoe. 
Till  Inan  de  Fuca  aiid  hi-  >uartliy  crew 
S  i'l'd  on  a  tre.i-^ure  emi  c  to  rer;ion>  cold, 
Iille  I  (Ircani'd  a  -umtiK  r  cvenint:  throiir;h, 
Watcliiii;::  the  rnddy  W'e-tem  Snn  cnfo'd 
The  -nowy-pcak'd  01nnpian^  in  transient  gold. 


II 


m 


II. 

Our  air  hath  yet  some  tanp;  of  Spanish  days. 
Some  glow  of  storic>  fading  from  t!ie  past 
Of  pioneer'^,  and  wrcckt  and  c\irious  strays 
From  distant  lan•!^  along  this  coast  up-cast. 
Since  brave  \'anconvcr,  from  his  eager  ma.'-t. 
Beheld  tlie  inland  .  f  hi-  la-tiuf;  fame, 
An<l.  veering  t(^  it-  [»lea>ant  shore,  made  fast 
To  rai-c  our  tlag  in  (inTge'-  royal  name. 
While  group'd  around  his  brawny  tars  gave  loud  ac- 

Cloim 


mmrtarmw^rmimMt 


\22 


IS    AM  III. R    I. ANUS 


,\ 


S. 


III. 

Ac-o-^  llic  rncky  harlior  mouth  >till  fall 
Echfi.-  t'    till  .  f  Mu'L.'land '.-  ca  y  croun, 
And  t;iiul\  \'A-^W-  I'rnin  the  barrack.-^  call 
A  challcnqc  iv  t'lc  carclc--  liitlo  tnwn 
That  lici  hkc  a  [.rclt     maid  in  tattcr'd  gown 
'Mid  tanojlcd  p^ardin^.  tcmptincr  one  to  halt 
W  lu'tr  j;ii,-iru(l  nak~.  witi!  i\  v  riwrcjrown, 
ArT  all  acrnid  will)  !;it  oiu-  (.-harmiiiu;  fault — 
•  «ln  n^\    ui^li  tlic  liid.Uu  mm-  nf   INnuimalt. 


And  iiniu-li.daut   lay   I   tliat  aftiruMdn, 
Tilt'  air  a  -(.lut  "i  wild  white  clcviT  Ijorc. 
And  I  muld  li'ar  flu  iniuiiU  and  ilir  tunc 
Of  tnnihhncr  \\av(s  rdopf^  t'lc  j>i  hblrd  shore; 
Such  gipsy  joys  to  mc  wore  ever  more 
Than  chase  of  gold  or  fame ;  but  yet  withal 
J  felt  the  first  fine  tremor  o'er  and  o'er 
Of  -,,nie  va-t  traffic  witlioiit  inlorval 
Tc  iraver-e  mkhi  tlu-e  wateruav-  imiierial. 


\i 


Where  now  some  tngbcjat  leave-  a  Mnoky  trail 
To  pencil  on  the  air  a  coiling  hint 
Ailiwart  the  li-htlmuse.  or  the  infreipient  <ail 
(^t  -onic  sl.nv  lumber  bark,  or  va-rant  vacht. — 
Where     glides     some     Briti-h     cruiser,     grimly 

wrought, 
Eeside  the  schooners  from  the  Arctic  ^ea^ 


rr'T?tt??;»lifTTTf»nni>iH»jinv«r»Mr.iiiii»aritnr40Hiinii!»iii 


l.\    AMr.i:R    LANDS 


«-M 


To  lar^rly  fctd  llic  cit'U«k<l  umld  MHtlmu^lit 
IliTc  x.'iii  Av.iW  p.i^-  ^rcat  animal  arjj;o^if> 
Full-frciglitcil  witli  the  ;.  irM  c   prairie  Ljranaric^. 

VI. 

And  niu.-inp:  tlni^  upon  that  gentle  mound, 
Far  tluwn  the  r^ach  of  \vaur^  t.)  the  ri-ht 
I  -aw  an  I'nijirc=;-  hiicr  inward  hotind, 
Speidiii.^  tlirii'  the  Xarrnu-,  turn  and  white, 
And  ever\   ninnieii!  L;ro.\ni^t>n  in\    ^i'^lit, 
I. ike  s'liKtiiinL,'  eUar  uni'iIihnL;  in  a  tlreain; 
Her  ver\  ni(ili"n  \\a-  a  clean  deii^lit. 
Tliat  W'lr  tile  -ai'jihire  -ea  tu  curl  and  eream 
Smoothh  (<ii  Iier  cnr\inL,'  prow  and  ;n<j\vy  beam. 

vtl. 

And  easily  as  up  the  Straits  she  roll'd, 
Mv  fancy  rambled  over  her  to  sec, 
Hnlc^inc:  richly  'f;ain-t  her  steely  hold, 
P.nle^  of  f1'>--y  ^ilk  -tow'd  solidly 
With  matted  r;re  ar.d  t^^n-  ot  fra.L,'ranr  t"a; 
Or  cNc.  her  (juainter  earc:o  fain  to  >can. 
Wee  China  to>-<  in  -ilver  filiprec. 
And  cnnnini:  iviirie>  ni  old  Jajian. 
Pack'd  with  iri-wuveii  nii;s  from  Lpahan. 

VM!. 

All  hail  tn  her!  the  white  forerunner  sent 
From  out  the  lavi-h  \\'e>t  to  rouse  the  old 


124 


IX    AMDER    I.AXDS 


Till  all  it^  >tc!irl  habitants  bo  tcld 
Of  quick  new  mo.lo  of  life,  and  manifold 
Sv.ft  cn:,:,nc.  of  e.xchanc,e.  and  how  b-  ih--e 
To  run  their  ti:ncs  within  a  f^ncr  mould 
And  trum  the  rut  of  Chiuc.c  ccnturi's  ' 
To  reach  for  wider  joy.,  and  .ooihcr  luxuries 


IX. 


Oh!sureiti..  ncmalltliin.qtobesaid 
IluitunUrn^  the  KaM  and  V.^.t  have  met  • 
And  uv.r  rul  mu-e  -hall  va  lu-  p.rfcctcd 

Around  th..W,,rM,  and  „.r,  !,!,],„. hall  v.t 
^luchvant;..,e,.Vru^y.-ni^.rnvaK<..,' 
Uhethcr  it  wave  imm  Wind-,.--,  i^in^"'-      ;- 

Oronthefarlh.Mvcr,c:eoff.:n,n,re.et'  ' 

Dove  Jearlcss  towns,  whose  hcart.trin.s  all  the 

S!.-,1I  thrill  to  every  chord  from  their  old  Mother-isle. 


We  feci  the  centre  now,  where'er  we  stand 

-^nd  touch  communitv  in  cvcrvthin- 

S^c,  Science,  uith  her  patient,  .ubije  hand 

Hath  snar-d  the  Globe  as  m  a  w.-zard's  ring,' 

\"d  -rt  all  riem.nt-  a-quiverin-  ^ 

I ..  .,nr  de.r.     W,,,,  ,„,,,„,  ,;,^^,  ,,^,„ 
\\I>.     .u,      ,,,,^.,,,^^,.,,,,,  _^.^^^__.^   ^^^^^^__^^      __ 

SuKdl  .,H.nW  to  .„e.O>:U  th.s  1  know, 
^^--  '.-- ar.  n.ore  the  scattered  World  as  one  must 


:x 


J\    AMl;i:R    LANDS 


125 


XI. 

Then  clo>cr  hlcnd  for  cinj)irc — that  i<  ()0\vcr : 
N'l)  tiling  of  wnrili  (_'cr  came  of  fcchlcnos. 
And  iniinii  i-~  tiic  j^tniiH  of  the  hour, 
riif  virtues  that  by  ma-ter  craft  and  stress 
W'roULjht  IniLXely  on  primeval  palaces. 
And  "stoni-li'd  l'..uy]it  and  yreat  r)al)ylon 
With  monuments  of  admirable  exce». 
Seem  once  a,t:;ain  from  out  ( )blivion  drawn 
To  li^dlten  o'er  the  Larlh  in  uncxami»lccl  dawn. 

XH. 

We  front  the  threshold  of  a  pliant  age. 
I'oremo-t  still,  but  others  follow  fast; 
We  may  not  trust  o'ennuch  tiie  written  pacj'C, 
Xor  measure   a  ith  the  measures  of  the  past. 
1m ir  all  our  million^,  and  our  regions  va^t. 
And  arniM  array,  in  lioa-tful  numbers  toM. 
To  kee|)  the  trea-ure^  that  our  -ire-  amass'd 
Hath  need  of  -tate-men  lion-like  to  hold. 
And  still  forestall  the  chanijint;  times,  alert  and  bold. 


Mir. 

The  impulse  of  the  strui^t^linc:  centuries 
Strikes  upward  now  in  onr  united  race, 
Not  for  a  Roman  trium])h.  but  to  case 
The  intercourse  of  nations,  and  to  place 
The  social  fabric  on  a  liapjiier  base  ; 
The  very  en;;inry  of  war  abhorr'd, 


ij6 


IX    AMP.KR    LANDS 


So  scinn  ri^  nny.  i-  l.cnJnl  to  ora-e 
Till'  -tain  an.l  Mi.ii.iy  rava.m'  "I"  tin-  -^word  ; 
The  vari(iui-!i'.l  now  arc  ;ill  to  i.(|ual  right  rostoiM. 

T'.nt  cry  coiiteniiit  iipnn  that  -ickl\   crL-t-d 
i  hal  would  not  lin-  a  ^hol  to  ^avc  it^  own, 
W  hoM'  piety  ])or\xT^(.'  (Knii  only  feed 
The  hope  of  leaner  nati>)n-.,  Ixdder  thrown. 
To  tread  the  ])ath  that  ue  have  hewn  alone: 
"Twa-  not  f(jr  theni  w  i-  found  that  path  x)  hard  — 
'Twa^  not  for  them  the   i'larth  -o  thi'k  \\a-  ■-own 
With  r.ritish  dead!     \ay.  rallier  let  n-  ^iiard 
The  barest  ruck  that  flic>  our  Hag  at  all  hazard. 

XV. 

And  e'en  for  sake  of  rich  and  plenteous  peace. 
Let  mastery  in  amis  he  lionor'd  still! 
So  ntily  -hall  tlie  fear     "  foemen  cea-c. 
Lor  this  i-  naked  truth,  say  what  thev  will. 
Th;!t  when    i  people  lose  the  jKuvcr  to  kill 
Thev  count  for  nau,c:ht  annMic:  the  sons  of  men; 
X'tr  tonque,  nor  pen,  nor  art.  nc^r  workmen's  skill 
Can  save  their  iiomes  from  alien  ravish  then, 
Or  lift  their  fallen  capitols  to  place  attain. 


XVI. 


Then  j^ive  ns  rifle- — rifles  everywhere — 

Readv  rifle-.  ti[)l  with  hayonets ! 

And  men  of  iron  Kj  lead,  who  little  care 


IX    AMHF.R    LAXDS 


127 


For  parlor  tactic-  or  for  M.cial  st-t-^ : 
Rc<i  cajit     IIS  uiirtliy  of  tluir  I'liaulcts : 
Not  rich  men's  -"iis  to  make  a  jia-sinp:  show, 
Lacc-loviiii;  i"\>^  or  woddvii   martinets. 
P)Ut    clcar-cyed    stalwarts    o'er    the    ranks,    who 
know 
How  l)e^t  to  train  a  naval  ;^un  or  trap  a  f(je. 

XVII. 

And  the'  the  burden  and  the  fret  of  life 
Still  wear  upon  ti-  with  unecpial  weii^ht, 
We'll  ne'er  ,i,n\e  wa\  to  fratricidal  strife. 
We  are  a  jK-ople  -troUL,'  to  tolerate. 
Till  forni'd  opininn  traminilly  abate 
The  ja.tlfl'il  abu-es  of  an  earlier  a;.je, 
Rather  than,  imjialient.  ennilate 
Those  hajile--.  nation-  thai  in  sudden  rage 
Of  revoluliun  wreck  their  ancient  heritage. 


XVTII. 

Our    Saxon    temper,    that    '.gainst    Church    and 

Crown. 
And  tyrant  Ca-tles  of  the  feudal  plan. 
Made  steady  way  until  it  wore  them  down, 
And  straiten'd  all  their  maxims  till  they  ran 
Current  for  the  ri^ht  of  every  man 
Freely  to  chanj;e  hi-  state  an-!  circumstance. 
Is  virile  vet  unbrokenly  to  span 
WlKit  i^'.ilf  alua-l,  what  luiforc-een  mi-chance. 
Would  tb.reat  the  front  oi  our  magnificent  advance. 


'?tl 


i.'8 


i.\  a.mi;l:j^  laxd.-^ 


ii 


i(  i 


XIX. 

And  \vf  have  tho-o  ulu;  c  dreams  of  betterment 
Outrun  their  tl.etin.tr  ,la_v  ;  who^e  hearts  idea! 
Meat  e\erin()re  a,L,'ain>t  discouratjenient. 
In  hii,di  endeavor  xvA  to  cease  till  all 
Tile  bar-  to  ojiportunity  shall  fall 
Within  the  I'ninn  of  the  British  bred; 
Nor  re-t  content  until  the  :.iutual 
.Machinery  of  State  be  perfected, 
So  that  no  lea.-t  of  all  our  brethren  go  unfed. 


11    ^ 


ll 


if 


XX. 

I  never  saw  f'ritannia  carved  in  stone, 
Or  figured  out  in  jjn.nze,  but  loyally 
I've  thougm  what  nierit  shall  be  all  her  own 
In  that  great  IlrotherhofHl  that's  yet  to  be— 
The  diamond   i'.nipire  of  iuiturity — 
Wlio-e  e(|nal  citizens  all  thron'd  elate, 
And  treading  each  a  M)vran  destiny, 
Shall  count  it  yet  their  pride  and  best  estate 
lo  steadily   for  coninionwealtli  co-operate. 


xxr. 

Who'd  lx>  the  bard  of  that  triumphant  time.? 
W  ho  hath  the  pen  of  promise,  and  the  skill, 
lo  tell   its  period-  in  exultant   rhvme? 
For  I  am  but  a  dreamer  on  a  hill, 
And  prone  withal  fart;i';t;c  Iio/.rs  to  till 
With  fanoic.  running  wild  of  thought,  or  gloat 


IX    AMl'.l.K    LANDS 


129 


F.cric  (3n  the  ri    i..Lr  Moon,  until 
r.otinic-  1  luar  lior  .lim  liannnnic  note— 
Boding  oi  forlii>l<lcn  thin.-,  and  themes  remote. 


XXII. 


But  so  a  pa-im 


-hip— a  bu.^le  call — 


Did  tempt  me  V>  e-ay  a  -oni;  i>t 
Beyond  the  ran,t;e  of  my  poor  art 
You  rank'd  (  Myiupian-,  that  loom 
A^ain-t  the  azure  ujiper  air.  are  .c^rcat 
O'er    tlii- 


Matc 
>  all 
rrate 


low    hill.      To    them    youns^r    Mornmg 


throw 


His  g 


:o 


Iden  fir-t  large-e— there,  lingering  late, 


Ro<e-niantle.l  l-.ve  her  deep  allegiance  shows. 
Gloriou.-,  "nuu  unconciuerM  pcak^  and  virgin  snows. 


1 


i* 


f* 


li! 


130 


IX    A.Mi;j:.K    I. AX  US 


li 


li 


O  CANADA! 


O  Canada!     Great  land  cur  fathers  won 
Bravely  from  tlie  ancient  Wilderness! 
Their  fi^Iit  i>  o"er,  their  work  i.>  tlunc, 

Their  nKincir\    wf  l)!ess. 
And  pas>  llu   wurd   t'nuu  ^ire  to  son 
To  niatch  their  hariline->: 
From  shore  tu  -Iiore  fir  tliee  we'll  stand, 
O  Canada,  fore\er  hand  in  hand! 


I 


II. 

We  build  npon  fonmlations  broad  and  sure, 
Wc  stablish  fast  our  place  with  indu>trv: 
God  f^rant  onr  work  may  still  endure, 

Ai'.d  aid  us  miiL;htilv 
To  keep  Dur  !iomes  and  altars  pure 
Ai,'ainst  the  enemy  I 
I'Vom  shore  to  shore  for  thee  we'll  stand, 
(J  Canada,  forever  hand  in  hand ! 


II 


III. 

(^h.  not  for  threat,  nor  j,niile,  nor  deeds  of  dread. 
Nor  de-tiny  made  j^lorious  with  i^oUl, 
V<Q  from  the  ways  of  honor  led 
Thru"  all  thv  years  untold ! 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


131 


But  keep  the  faith  inherited 
From  loyal  days  of  old! 
From  shore  to  shore  for  thee  we'll  stand, 
O  Canada,  forever  hand  in  hand! 


133 


IN    A.MDER   LANDS 


\ 


TIIF.  CMIIX'OOT  PASS. 


iM    ' 


I. 

Far  up  llic  Cliilcnnt  Hcip;ht^  !    The  solid  snow. 
Avalanch'd  from  Titan  jjcak;  that  ri>c 
In  stony  isolation  "gainst  tli'j  skies, 
Ilalh  whclniM  all  in  scnmdlcss  overthrow; 
And  almost  nuw  the  white  and  cni-ted  mass 
Hath  choked  the  s^lacier's  t,dia^tly  hlue  crevasse 
That  cleaves  to  everlasting;  cold  below  : 
The  wintry  day  declines ;  and  down  the  Pass, 
Wh-Tc  Time  hath  fallen,  desolate,  aslcej), 
To  mark  the  flight  of  Arctic  hours  gigantic  shadows 
creep. 


11 


II. 

lUit  sec  I     U])On  that  ])erilous  meagre  trail, 
Tiicre  winding  upward  to  a  dazzling  crest, 
A  miner  inward  hound  on  Fortune's  quest! 
And  tho'  the  sunlight's  slanting  weak  and  j)ale, 
Tho'  in  the  livid  clouds  a  tempest  lours. 
And  far  above  him  yet  the  Summit  towers, 
He  sees  therein  no  sight  to  make  him  quail ; — 
'Ciainst  any  steep  he'd  pit  his  stubborn  powers ; 
He  goes,  as  dauntless  men  have  gone  of  old. 
To  play  with  Death  in  a  land  unknown  for  a  stake  of 
love   and    '^oW. 


IX    AMIU-R    LANDS 


133 


III. 


mca.lv  l.c-s  tml-.l  for  hour> :  at  la-t  he  makes 
A  uiuin.  ..i^  I-au^o  to  slntt  his  licavy  pack 
The  tui^tcl  suai.^  chafe  M,re  upnn  h,.  back, 


An<l  with  har.l  trave 


1  all  hi-  boily  aches. 


I'.vU  ni'W  il  1- 


le  11' 


,K'~    Ultll    -UIIU    ( 


li-niay 


What  little  in-a-ure  s 


letl  l;iiii  ' 


it  the  day, 


An<l  li"w 


tlu-  air'>  ahhir  with 


thm 


\v 


Yft  tip  the  i'a 
T 


lie 


taki 


KIl 


.Tiinii'    nil   lie  .L,'ne 


liitt   tlake-: 
Mirvey, 
Willi  ha-teiiin'-r  -tri'le, 


(UK-    (lUKl 


Tor  he  nui-t  he  <>v 


;v  the  Suiuiuit 


bv  niuht— he  will 


leep  uii 


iIk'  other  si'le. 


IV. 


l,ct  other- 
Down  live 
He'll  pion.vr  hi-  w 


la"  ;  he'll  '  n  with 


the  fir-t  of  the  rush ! 


r^  iMari-.i-  r.i 


to  (le-erts  l)leak. 


av  t  )  the  r 


fr 


0  7C11     ( 


chest  creek — 
artli— he'll  cni^h 


He'll  d-A  i'.iiil  tliaw  t.ie  . 

11;  hoar.le.lt:ea.:rc.ut-an,l  he'll  call  hi-  claim 

••The  1  ittle  Annu!"     l^.r  him  that  simple  name 

U.'lns  up  a  'Ircam  of  ho„K-  re-unim:4  tlu-h 

With  -tore  of  vdluw;;ol<lan,lH'l^'"  ^--''"^^  • 
Brimxln-  hack  t'.ic  hap|)y  'lay^  once  more 
To  a  little  ,irl  left      aely  on  the  lone  Lake  Lr.e  shore. 

V. 

The  gloom  i-  .Icepenins  where  the  sttnlicht  was; 
The  tlakes  are  fal'.in-  faster  now  aroiin<l : 
Far  off  he  hear-  a  shrill,  forchochn'^  sonn-l. 
And  at  it-  challcn-c  makes  another  pau^e. 


1.U 


IN  a.mi;i;r  lands 


m\ 


A  whilf  irrc^"Iuti'.  with  anxious  eye 
He  t^a/c-  at  tli.-  inciiacf  i>t  llu-  -'.\. 
And  tr"in  it-  lui''  nlrctaiit  uarnin;^  ilraws: 
Till'  -tiirni  i-  nii;li  —  he  little  dreams  lunv  nigli- 
W'luii  cur-iiij,'  lii-  labor  ln^t  iu'  turns  to  ^'o 
Down  again  fur  shelter  to  the  cabin  far  below. 


I 


VI. 

Save  your  curses,  man  I     ^  on  walk  o'crbold  ! 
You  t;o  tof^)  -low  and  sullen  ddwn  that  path! 
You  may  live  and  brave  the  cuniini;  wrath 
In  tho-e  tunuiltuous  clouds  almve  you  roU'd! 
Save  your  cur>e-.,  man  I — fur  now  you"!!  need 
Every  breath  your  body  lia>  for  sjieed ; 
E'en  now  the  air  i^  struck  with  deathlier  cold; 
E'en  now   the  foremo-t  furiou-  winds  are  freed; 
L(jok  ! — liMik  above  you  there  at  la>t, 
And  see  the  lleaveii>  whirling  downward,  vague  and 
w  hite  ami  vast ! 


VII. 

So — lie  knows  ! — too  late,  alas,  lie  knows 
His  fierce  i)ur>ucrs.  and  with  desperate  leap 
Goes  i)lunging  madly  down  the  uncertain  steep — 
Down  for  his  life !     Frantic  now,  lie  throws 
His  dragging  pack  away — his  senses  swim 
With  swift  descent — the  storm's  o'ertaking  him — 
The  drift  in  stinging  clouds  around  him  hlows 
To   make   him   gasp   and   choke — his   eyes   grow 
dim — 


n 


IN    AMI'.l-.K    I  ANDS 


135 


Tnto  h;-  \»i> 


li(iiu>  tlu-  I'M  Ik-  fi'o 


!>  • — 


lUlt     'InV.  11     AV>\     <I"\M1     tlial 


tat;il    I'a--,  tho"  d'lzcd,  he 


kail-  aii'l  ncl- 


I'ar  111)  tlu  riiil 


\  III. 


lU'-  -iru-i;lni-  -till.  MU  imw 


'I"iif  -t.irni  Is  ft! 
In'-  j. '-t  tlif  trail 


And  a!I  hi-  -tiitdy  in 


U-l"l( 


-  tlatr  and  fail. 


•M,d  -nirlin-  -n^'W,  t.i  -hapc-  tanta-tic  drawn 
Tliat  ].a-  lik^  indk--  tUiMii-:  i^li.-t-:  an-l  each, 
In  i>a--in.L:.  -vun-  to  lii--  at  liini  and  n-acli 
l.onK  tlirnttlin.i:  tin-ci-  out:  -iL;lu  i-  k''>"^". 
For  In-  I'M-  -et-  '"ily  \\''>'^''  '''''■'^'-  ^'^'^  >i-"''i-^'^"li 
Of    \rctic  wind-  -wift  k'ai)in-;  from  tlic  -ky 
Down  like  the  -oul-  of  fanii.-liM  uohc— "O!,.  Annie, 
las- ! — p)od-hy  ! 

IX. 

••1-or    now     km    j'layM    ri.^lit    out— im    freezing 

fa-t— 
rin  on  the  -pot  where  I'll  i'ore\cr  he. 
Ju-l    when    1    th.ni-ht    my    chance    had    comc— 

}j;ood-hy  I 
(■.(uid-hvl'  my  hie  i-  over  now  and  pa^t ! 
And  it"-  Iku'i  no  u-e.  tho'  I've  tried  everywhere 
To  do  the  l-e-l   1  o.ull.  an.',  do  it  -quare. 
Cod'-  kept  hi-  sinid-c  aunin-t  mc  to  the  last. 
\nd  I've  ^tood  it  now  -o  Ion-.  1  hardly  care! 
1  (t  llini  fhii  h  me  up.  ri-ht  her.',  if  He  like-,  and 

hurl 
Whafs  left  of  mc  to  Hell  l-P.ut  you  !-0  Annie— my 

orjihan    i^irl!" 


'til 


ii 


y> 


IX    AM  ill;  R    I.WDS 


X. 

W'liitt",  uliitc,  \vliit(--;il!  'rMnii.l   'tj.  wliitc 

I'.liti'l  whit.'  .-iii'l  .  ..M  :   -!Mii,,;ii,l  i.  hiirIM 
Ills  I.i-t  .-ipjcil  ■-■liii-t  tlii,  nldiilc,  W,u!(I: 
X<i  n-ciu-  mnv  mnv    CMUf  -  no  Msii't   rc-pite: 
Till'  niiiintc-  (if  li!s  111',    .-I...  ;,i  „,,,,  ,,'j.p_ 
IK   kiKiw.  it  w,  II  :_.t.,._  1,..  ni..v(>.  tin  more! 
I'.(iil\'  .iii'I  -'.III  rail  iii.:kr  n.  >   I'liit'i  r  ti-lit. 
l!rui!i!(rM  in  tl'f  Mi//:ii,!"     in,i,|,i  nin-  mar; 
Hilt  Iit\  f.uiiii^r  ii— lie".  -!:m  i:„.^  ri'M.j  tlurc— 
Dcfyiii-^   l!iavur>  utiiioq   wrath  in  rLa.v.n-rackM  de- 
spair? 


Y 


■ '  t 


xr. 

"r.low.  tlun,  .lainii  v.-n-Mnu  !     \nu\x-  taken  all! 
^..11— uiiativir  Thin;,.  \,,n  are  that  hears— 
Vt'ii've  ii(\rr  ..nee  lel  i;p  (,n  nie  f.-r  year-! 
Y<.irve  stript  Pie  -tark  an.l  lare  a-  a  \voM,len  .loll! 
An.I  there's  n.t  a   ra-   of  eonif.jrt  left!     You've 

hlowil 
Kvery  j..y  and  every  Impc  I've  known 
Ron-hlv  from  my  life!     And  when  I  fall. 
You'll  hov.l  ahove  nie.  d\iii-  lu-re  alone! 
Pile   on— pile  on.    with    >onr    hlaMed.    stranj^ling 
snow ! 

on  can  talc  un  more  hit  my  life  now!     Blow,  then! 
damn  you — blow  !" 


t!| 


XII. 


White,   white,  wliite,-  nnceasinjr  white! 
See!  Ik  totter-,  fielding  to  his  doom— 


IN    ,\Mi:i:iv    lANi'S 


U7 


The  Miow  luitl.  r.-.i.U  iii.-uKln^  ^hna.-l  atvl      '"1): 
lluluhat  .^tliat-     Tlirr.  l.roak.  a  ^u-l-lon  l.^ht 
That  -tailK^  Iniu  t-  la~t  (Ului-u^  era- ;— 
rinnadul  atliwaii  \hv  awful  ^1m'  -■ 
lUhuM   a  trea^unl.Mlr.   r.no.vcn.l   l.n^lit 

In  transient  -''  ')  '■'  1'  -  ''.^ '"'>>'  ^'*-'^' 
(,n  a  towering'  i'^''l^  t''^"  MUi.ct  cl-.u-U  unroll  .1 
And    l.cV    ^:as,.,n^_    at    Uu-    cruel    ^i.kn.lor-"C..l.l- 
j,a)l<l— ^"I'l!" 

Mil. 

Faruptl,cChilco.,tlln;Ju^!    A  ,. rostrate  furm. 

Half  Imrinl  n-w  au-l  ui-li-uU-.  doth  he 

All  fric  of  paiu-an.l.  hapjiil) .  to  .ho. 

I.i.tcn!     lU-  nnittenn-  thro"  thr  i>asMn-  >turm : 

•'Home  at,'ain.  Annie— homo  a-ain! 

(.ud-  l.ut'ii-^  re^tful-aftcT  that  ratthn^  tram! 

It's  -ill  ~o  -tin  and  ^unnv  here— and  ^o  warm. 

HoWNva^.t  1  cameso  ^oon:-     I  can't  explam- 

Onlv  I  know  Im  home  ;  and  oh !  it  >cem. 

frcx;.l  to  he  true '     DoeMiH  it.  la»?    And  it  .  finer 


Too  R(X)< 


than  all  uiy  drcam> ! 


XIV. 


"You've  Rrown  .o  pretty  ^ince  I've  been  away— 
So  tall  an.l  prettv-1  alnv^^t  ^eem  to  ^ee 
Your  mother  Miiilini;  there  attain  at  me. 
lust  like  she  loo.k'd  upon  her  w.-ddin-  <lav  !— 
A  year  before  ihev  laid  her  •neath  the  j^rass, 
And  left  nic  only  yni.  my  little  la-s! 


11 


1.^.8 


Com 


IN'    A.M.MI.R    [,A.\[)S 
c  cV)-'  ,  I,.  n,t._tliin;;s  nr,,\v  ,: 


nil  and  L'ray; — 


^^y  '}'■'  v.^'H'  liurt  ill  a  I,li;iar.l  ,,n  the  ra>.. 
I  lie  war  I  went  awav  aii<l  left  vnp    Jv-t' 
Whaf.  ,nal,;n;,   ,t  ,Iark   >o  early,  Annicr     Surciv  it's 
not  niylit  yet  r 


XV. 

''Oil!  ucll-no  matter!     Whatever  time  it  be 
I  m  «,ne  nt  the  hicky  n,Ks.  IV,.  ,na.!e  mv  pile   ' 
And  I'm  t^oin-  m  take  it  ea^y  U>r  a  uhijc. 
No  more  udik  or  worrv  now  for  me  • 
IVek.t.  ,>f  o.Id-a.  yellow  a>  v.mr  em).- 
And  I  11  ,lrc..  yn„  thie  a,i;ain  like  the  other  ^irh 
And  t^et  y.ui  everylhini,r  ,,,1,  want-vou'Il  see'      ' 
A  nncr  hk-e  mother  had-an.i  a  eoilar  of  pearl." •- 
And   n,  ,,uv-ni  In,,  t!ie  oI<l   home  back-that 
tliey  .-old  ! 

But  it's  made  your  Daddy  old,  dcar-ifs  made  him 
iceJ  <o  old ! 


xvi. 


"Yes,  I  hoar  ^on  lanshin-;  at  me  now  ' 

IU.toh!ifsooodtohearyo„|aushaiain! 
To  have  you  near  and  have  you  la„.h-^^^ 
I   niust  look  kind  ot  funnv.  Til  allow 

l:u!  fli  have  better  ones  to-morrow,  dear-- 
And  (  know  you  love  your  old  Dad,  anyhow! 


L\   AMDER   LAN'DS 


139 


sK't-p  ju>t  here  : — 


I  feel  so  tired.  I  think  I" 

Kiss  m-,  Annie!— th(.ro—L;o()(l  iii-ht,  my  la>s !" 
God  rest  the  -ouls  of  the  dead  who  he  un  the  Heights 
of  the  Chilcoot  Tass! 


:sc: 


I 


fel 


l! 


140 


IN    AMiiER    LANDS 


CACTUS. 

I've  wandered  over  Western  plains  where  naught 

Of  in.ivin-  lifo  will  choose  it.-elf  a  home. 

Save  creaiur,-  r,f  -rote<.|ue  nr  hateful  breed, 

Rattlesnakes  .md  hairy  tarantulns. 

And  red-,-o,-l<  lizanls,  wiih  their  kindred  hu.^e, 

The  ,t,dIa-rnonsters.  wlv.-e  envenoni'd  breath 

Shr-.v.K  the  erawlin^t,^  centipede,  thev  sav, 

And  curls  in  death  the  silent  scorpion 

K'er  he  can  stinp.  yet  passes  o'.t  indiarmM 

ilie  horne.l  toads  that  <]umhcr    niid  the  ^ands 

There  ghnnnerin-  hot  beneatli  the  rainless  skies. 

And  yet  up,on  tli.^se  plains  so  desolate 
Xo  spear  of  t;ra-s  lor  anv  .eaM)n  comes 
AM.ere  ecn  the  arid  sa,t,^e-l,ru>h  venture's  not 
Jlu.se  plants  uncouth  Tve  s,-,„  that  elearlv   'how 
Aor  stem  nor  leaf,  but  structured  all  in  one, 
i  erennial  qrow  in  rnoted  shapes  perverse 
As  ever  Dante  dreamed  ur  Dorc  drew. 

.^''Hie  tall  as  palms  rear  cloven  pinnacles 
Pr-udly  through  the  t..rrid  atmosphere- 
And  some  like  minuV  reptiles  sprearl  and  sprawl 
'Me,r  pr.ckly  arms  alon^  the  parched  -round 

."■>';-'l"at  and  roiuid.  and  .leckt  with  hoary  hair. 
Dwell  herm.t-like  among  the  sunset  rocks 


iiaiiyTfjT 


IX    AMBRR    LANDS 


141 


Or  lean  above  tlic  canon's  beetling  verge. 
Where  down — sheer  down  a  thousand  feet  below — 
Tlie  twilight  green  is  Ikckt  with  pallid  foam 
I'lung  from  the  rapid  Rio  as  it  rolls 
Between  abysmal  walls  outrageously. 

And  thus  in  regions  drv  and  damnable 
They  hold  the  juice  of  life,  well  armed  about 
With  myriad  thorns  like  bayonets  at  the  charge, 
Lest  any  luckless  beast  upon  these  wilds 
From  them  should  seek  precarious  sustenance. 
And  some  do  keep  within  themselves  a  cool 
.*^weet  reservoir  of  waters,  gathered  up 
In  tho'-e  brief  seasons  when  relenting  skies 
Resolve  at  last  the  roaring  thunder  clouds 
In  sudden,  unrestrained  relief  to  rain. 
But  for  them  all  there  comes  a  time  of  bloom, 
When  their  distorted  bodies  wake  and  thrill. 
And  feel  within  themselves  a  revelling 
Of  splendid  passion  culminate  at  la^-t 
In  wealth  of  gorgeous  blossoms.     Xonchalant 
They  dance  and  tlirt  witli  every  passing  breeze, 
And  riot  'mid  the  spiny  bayonets 
Like  odalisques.  Irxf.riant  to  fill 
With  Orient  odor  and  lii^h  criri:ival 
Those  waste  and  unaccu^toin'd  s«jlitudes. 


i   •■' 


i  mn 


Some  lift  a  scarlet  .L;lory  to  the  sun, 
While  all  day  long  tluir  gol'm  "^tamens  swell 
With  vtlvet  pollen,  driftintj  i)'er  their  mate 
Until  her  last  desire  be  satisfied. 


^' 


142 


IX    AMIiER    LANDS 


I 

I 


U 


i 


S..I11C.  virjiin-Iikc,  await  the  veiled  Iiours 

Of  ..no  l,,n-  cliM.m  c-vc.  when  pure  and  pale 

Witli  perfect  rai)ture  they  at  len-tli  unfold 

Their  loveliness  beneath   the  Southern  stars, 

An<l  ail  exhaust  in  one  voluptuous  nijjht 

Tlic  yearncd-fur  bliss,  perchance,  of  patient  years. 

E'en  so,  those  quenchless  isolated  sparks 
Of  that  recurrent  fire  that  men  call  Life 
In  such  odd  sin'^e  do  there  express  themselves, 
With  virtues  individual  and  rare. 

In  all  that  valiant  fibre  what'>  involved? 
Cod  know.!     Hut  >urely  Character,  whose  vim 
Will  hold  thro  "every  shape  that  bodie.  it 
In  striving  up  the  >iony  tracts  of  Time. 

Let  that  be  a.  it  will !    lu.t  I  have  known 
Some  fellows  of  my  own  so  jrifted  with 
A  like  persistent  faith  they  would  extract 
From  circumstance  to  wither  other  hearts 
A  very  elixir  of  faith  and  liope. 

And  so  I  call  to  mind  an  old-time  friend: 

A  .granite  Presbyterian  he  was 

Of  thorny  doctrine  and  contracted  creed. 

Whose  soul  a^  in  a  desert  pitiless 

Dwelt  far  remover'  from  pleasant  wavs  of  men 

Desp,,rM  f,,r  dcc^U  that  he  had  never  done 

And  tear-d  all  thinos  beneath  the  bras.y  .kies 

I'ored.vini'd  unto  inevitable  Hell. 


It 


W!tt!irilLi.ti.llYtMM 


i\  .\mi;i:r  i.axds 


143 


Vet  there  were  times — wc  tie'cr  couM  tell  fur  why — 

When  (."it  hi^  dour  old  face  would  fall  a  ^dint 

Of  sunny  Innm  r  ami  of  transient  peace, 

As  if  his  straiten'd  soul,  in  very  -tress 

Of  its  own  native  sweetne--,  had  put  forth 

Some  fair  (juaint  (lower  to  l>l(joni  inconj^ruous 

Upon  the  harren  hraiielus  of  hi>  faith. 

E'en  such  a  time  it  seeuiM  to  me  when  once 

In  San  Francisco,  years  a^o.  I  stroll'il 

With  him  along  the  water  front  and  saw 

A  drunken  sailor  on  a  sudden  halt 

Before  a  wounded  cur  that  yelpinj:;  lay 

Upon  the  road.     Xo  joasser-hy  took  heed, 

But,  muttei.iif(  word-  of  maudlin  sympathy, 

The  sailor  -ttJopM  mt-teadily  and  caught 

The  mongrel  creature  in  lii>  arms.    At  once 

It  stopt  its  crie.s,  and,  in  brute  gratitude, 

'Can  licU  the  fellow's  foolish  bearded  face, 

While  he,  flinging  a  cu'-toinary  cur>e  or  two 

Upon  the  jeering  urchins  (jf  the  street, 

Stagger'd  from  our  sight   with  his  new  charge: 

A  homeless,  worthless  jiair,  whetlur  they  sought 

The  refuge  <if  some  ding\  lodging  house. 

Or  forecastle  of  some  tramp  merchantman, 

Or  tarry  little  schooner  on  the  bay. 


i  m 


But  my  (lour  friend  lonk'd  after,  as  in  doubt, 
Bcwilder'd  to  approve  that  n(aidescript 
Haphazard  deed  who»e  vagrant  influence 
Yet  warm'd  his  aged  h^art  like  rare  good  wine: 
Then,  smilinsr,  nuirmur'd  slowlv  t'l  himself: 


144 


1\    AMIH.R    LANDS 


ti 


".Ml,  Tarn— Till  maylic  t'linkin",  lad,  tliat  yon 
Poor  vai^ahotid  Samaritan  and  a' 
W'ci'  fccklos  do;,^s  and  daftlike  sailormen 
Mann  no  ^top  aye  in  Hell — nor  no  for  long!'' 
And  tlio'  lie  said  no  nicjre  I  felt  the  glow 
( )f  white  compassion  that  cncompass'd  him; 
A  radiance  straight  from  some  eternal  shrine 
lleyond  the  bounds  of  aught  his  creed  confcss'd. 


Ill 


I  liad  another  friend  of  different  sort: 

(lemle  liorn  and  led  in  luxury 

Thro'  ei:iMl!cii(r>  day-^.  life  ojjenM  fair  until 

Dealli  ri'I-iiM  him  of  the  friends  he  needed  most, 

And    f:iitlile-s   miardians   kft   him  penniless. 

Vet  early  for  liini>elf  an  envied  place 

Above  the  shrewd  competing  throng  he  gain'd 

On  one  great  cii\'s  mart,  where  sweeps  the  tide 

And  tr.'iffic  of  lur  richest  merchandise. 

And  if  he  dream'd  of  riches  then  his  dreams 

Were  foiimled  well.     lUit  other  things  he  dream'd, 

For  in  his  blood  was  more  than  bargaining, 

And  he  had  --oul  t(K)  great  to  hold  himself 

I'emirious  on  the  road  to  mean  success. 

The  days  went  by.    And  so  it  was  that  in 

'i'liat  rosy-vision'd  time — the  June  of  youth — 

When  all  things  beckon'd  him,  he  thought  he  found 

One  wonian">  face  more  fair  than  all  his  dreams — 

One  woman's  heart  beyond  the  price  of  gold. 

Ak'.-I     W'lun  to  another's  arms  she  went, 

Lovek->  'mid  all  l<n-ely  circumstance. 

The  star  that  lit  the  perfect  way  for  him 


tl£'tttl«iffctttUtt4iUiMJllttll21tiKl>l.Mt(<M  .  «M'>»««««»fe««J4*i *****»« 


IX    AMIIRR    I.AXDS 


145 


Went  (K'ukl}-  out.  ami  frnm  the  \va--t(.'  nf  years 

Hi-  iiriiii.i -'<!  lian]  ii!c>^  fiirtvcr  |)a--"(l, 

I.ikv  a-  .1  in'>ii](,'nary  l)ri;^lit  mirai;c 

i'ictiir'd  (jii  ail  cnilK'--  wiMcniv-^. 

And  tlio'  he  went  nniuuntt^l  tlirouc;!!  all  laruls, 

( Jrajiplinfj^  with  c  j)cvviT-t'  de-tin;,. 

i'verywhiT'^  the  \va\   tn  liiin  \va-  IiarrM. 

And  c\  ;r^  ■.'.'•ore  he  t'dtnd  a  Iiarder  lot: 

It  seeni'd  a-  i'ate  a  -in;;'e  vengeance  wrcak'd 

On  hitn  fur  fnllit--  of  a  -eore  of  hve-. 

Yet  when  he  eaine  anionL;-t  n>  in  llie  \Vc--t. 

Ahh.o"  liis  -h.a";_;y  hair  wa-  •-treaUt  with  i^ray, 

lie  -pokf  hke  -o;ne  fr^-h-hearted.  jihicky  boy, 

Ready  for  new  ad\eTi;rre  an\  where. 

A  -nrlv.  th.wartel.  hopcle--  -et  we  were. 

Strande<l  in  tliat  l)arren  njiniriL:^  camp. 

r.ut  -ion  f^r  liiin  we  found  a  welcome  place, 

Won  over  l)v  the  wlio!e-onie.  cheery  way 

He  settled  down  to  that  nms^h  life  of  ours. 

He  workM  with  mc  a  wa-ted  -ca-on  through 

L'pon  the  poorest  claim  of  one  poor  creek, 

With  temper  cool  and  evn  all  the  while. 

And  when   I  had  no  heart  to  -in:^^  he'd  sing 

And  twan^r  on  hi-  old  hanjo  hy  the  fire 

To  drive  awa\  the  loneline--  of  night; 

He  had  the  knack  •-omehow  to  make  me  feel 

That  am   huk  wa-  !:;ood  eiiiiir^h   f<ir  u-. 

That  with  it  ;dl  a  man  cunM  he  a  man. 

And  ci'inc  np  -miling  from  the  h.-irde-t  blow 

That  I'ate  knev.   how  to  ^ive.     Poor  old  Jack! 

We  loved  him  for  hi-  -nnny,  careless  way-, 


m  m 


I'  i 


Ui  i'.A>t>fm*nma».r*tt**ii  ■ 


146 


IX    AMP.KR    LANDS 


I 


yi 


;ii 


And  tluTc  w.T-  tio  hitUr  frlluw  in  tlic  \Vc>t! 
Till-  fivcT  'tw.'i-  that  look  him  off  at  la^t, 
And  in  tlic  sliit'liiiL,'  >and--  'vr  hinird  liini. 
W'c  roU'd  a  hoiildiT  there  to  mark  his  pjravc. 
And  on  it  >cia\\rd  hi-  nanif  ami  when  he  (hed, 
But  made  no  !-ho\v  of  ser\ice  o\er  hini. 
For  there  wa^  nu  man  of  n^  could  -a\  a  word. 
Yet  when  the  re-t  had  i^Diie  I  hn^^irM  still, 
And  sat  upon  tliat  old.  --triatcil  stone 
To  stare  in  stolid  moi  •'  aiiain^t  the  We^t, 
Wherein  the  ruddy  :     n  had  -nnken  low  :— 
Sat  hroodin^  on  the  tauLjle  of  onr  lives, 
That  seem  -o  ;,^nnc  awry  and  ohjcctle-s. 
Till  out  of  the  wreck   of  unrelated  thinjTS 
One  of  the  inumenl--  came  that  come  to  me 
DriftinjT  loose  from  Time,  and  wonderful 
With  alien  frac^rance  and  F.lv-ian  airs. 
While  ahsently  T  mutter'd  words  of  him. 
Witless  for  all  I  know — hut  no  one  knows: 
"His  drowsy  spirit  dreams  of  me,"  I  said, 
"Amonj::;  the  outer  L;lades  of  Paradise!" 
And  I  arose,  yet  ere  i  went  away. 
Upisn  that  irrave,  I'or  lack  (jf  1;(.'tter  tliini^, 
I  planted  cactus  for  a  covering. 


r 

ti 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 


147 


TO  WALT  WHITMAN. 


I. 


Hello  there,  Walt ! 
Out  of  sight  on  tlie  old  Highway 
I  hear  your  song: 

I  hear  the  words  that  you  have  said  for  me: 
I,  a  sayer  of  word>.  :-iiig  out  hello  to  you: 
And  you  are  not  so  very  far  ahead  but  you  will  hear 
my  words  also. 

II. 
Words,  Walt,  words! 
Your  words,  anybody's  words,  and  the  words  of  the 

rolling  Worlds! 
But  under  all  the  one  Word  never  utter'd. 

III. 

O  Comrade  mine ! 

Accepting  all,  eager  for  all,  taking  no  denial! 
Love  shines  in  you.  through  you,  from  you. 
Splendid  as  the  Sun ! 

IV. 

0  eagle-eyed  !    O  Titan-heart ! 

1  look  with  vou  to  the  heights  of  old  philosophies : 


AjassaBtfaa 


w. 


148 


IX    AMl'.I'R    I.AXDS 


I^okinp:  above  and  beyond  tbcin,  shoutinfj  ahoy 
To  \voni!cr><  weaving  out  of  Wonder  endless  in  the 
still  Kterne. 


Hut  nin^tly,  Walt, 

I  watch  you  saunter  down  with  huge  rejoicing  tread 

Tramping  America : 

Mixing  with  crowded  Manahatta: 

Swinging  an  axe  in  the  Oregoti   forests: 

Bellowing  songs  to  the  Sea 


[ill 


VI. 

For  all  your  rant  and  brag  alwut  your  States — who 

cares  ? 
But  the  coming  f)f  the  lilacs, 
And  the  call  of  mating  birds, 
And  the  smell  of  June,  with  its  berries, 
And  the  feel  of  the  harvest  air, 
And   supple-bodied   youth,  and   clean   red  blood,  and 

the  ripe  white  quiver  of  the  grown  girl's  breast, 
And  all  the  ea>y  common  joys  of  Life  to  be  had  for 

the  a-king. 
The  beautiful,  bountiful  How  of  things  in  every  land — 

simple,  copious,  nnrestrain'd  forever. 
The  >ky  and  the  stars  and  the  winds  of  God,  and  the 

lovely   faces  behind  the  masque  of  Death, — 
For  chanting  these  my  hat  goes  off  to  you, 
Olil  >taKvart  out  of  days  primeval, 
Earth-born  and  generous! 


IX    AMBER   LANDS 


149 


vix, 

Down  South : 

And  the  tide  i>  coining  in: 

I  watcli  you  fishing  fmni  tlic  cdgo  of  the  old  dock: 

And  a  nicr^cr  --itting  by  mi  t  in  the  sunshine: 

I  hstcn  to  yonr  lazy  chat ; 

Carelchs  there,  happy,  5inckinc^'  a  corncob  pipe; 

Dlowin^j  bkic  inccn.-e  into  the  round  blue  sky: 

Calling  It  all  di\ine. 

VIII. 

0  but  the  Ocean  play'd  great  tunes  for  you  in  octaves 

run  t<i<>  deep 
For  your  tin-e.r'd  contcmporics  to  hear ! 

IX. 

1  tell  you,  Walt. 

This  World  lie.-  .-iik   for  want  of  men  like  you: 
Mure  vlorious  vagabonds  and  clean  barbarians: 
T'lonarchs  of  Life  in  the  making: 
Who  find  the  tracks  of  God  on  all  sides  round. 
And  understanding  not  at  all  yet  laugh  content. 
Confident  as  any  babe  that  sees  itself 
Mirror'd  in  its  mother's  eyes. 

X. 

Here's  to  you.  Walt ! 

To  you  and  all  gooil  tramp--  of  Adam  following! 

Free,  fresh,  savage ! 

Afoot  on  the  open  Road! 

Taking  the  trail  of  the  great  Companions. 


.  t  »  »  »•♦»•  >.««•>•  ttH  itr4'- 


'5*^ 


IN    AMiillR   LANDS 


11 


XI. 


Comracics.  ever  comrades ! 
What  other  words  to  say ! 
Comrades,  evt  r  comrades, 
On  the  old  Highway  ! 


1^1  _:  il  i*i-i-i 


IN    A.MBEK    LANDS 


151 


LONK  \V(M.\'  LAMKNT. 


Drink  if  you  will  to  happy  ilay-. 

And  th!ii'-^>  t'>  he— '.'It  -iv, 
^^■hert*  arc  the  f  I''v...  -  [  ni.l  to  know? 

Where  are  nv.  friend?  to-dav? 


Wow  !    Hear  mo  liow  1 ! 
For  Shad  .-md  IVte  ;ind  Cicor^o  a:iil  Jack 
Who  t(X)V  the  I'.ri'.r  fiail  and  loft  no  track; 
Oh!  never  a  one  of  them  all  corner  back, 

Ami  the  uin'.*.r-time  i-  here! 

Wow  !     Hear  me  howl  I 
For  Olive  and  June  and  winte  Ircnv-. 
And  the  Mexican  Kiii  aiu!  littlj  Corinne ; 
Daughters  of  i>i\  who  have  not  been  .-con 

This  manv  and  ninny  a  year! 
I'm  a  lone  old  wolf,  and  fvc  io-t  my  pack, 

And  the  winter-time  is  liere : 
Wow  !    Hear  me  howl ! 

ir. 

Many  are  gay  and  many  are  fair, 
And  some  still  mme  at  my  call : 

But  I've  gone  lame,  and  can  run  no  more, 
So  what's  the  use  of  it  all "' 


152 


IX    AMBER   LANDS 


ti' « 


Wow  !     1  icar  inc  iiowl ! 
For  Shall  and  I 'etc  and  (icor<,fc  and  Jack 
Who  took  the  lonj,'  trail  and  left  no  track: 
Oh !  never  a  one  of  theni  all  conies  back, 

And  the  winter-time  is  here! 

Wow  !     Hear  me  howl ! 
For  Olive  and  June  and  white  Irene, 
And  the  Mexican  Kid  and  little  Corinne : 
Daughterb  of  joy  who  have  not  been  e-een 

This  many  and  many  a  year  ! 
I'm  a  lone  old  wolf  and  I've  lost  my  pack, 

And  the  witilcT-timc  i>  here ; 
Wow  !    Hear  me  howl ! 


III. 

I  drcam'd  last  night  I  ran  with  them 

L'ncler  a  gold-red  sky, 
Where  the  mountains  rose  from  the  green  prairie^ 

And  I  woke  and  wisht  to  die. 


Pi 


Wow !    Hear  me  howl ! 
For  Shad  and  Pete  and  George  and  Jack 
Who  took  the  long  trail  and  left  no  track : 
Oh !  never  a  one  of  them  all  comes  back, 

And  the  winter-time  is  here! 

Wow!     Hear  me  howl ! 
For  Olive  and  June  and  white  Irene, 
And  the  Mexican  Kid  and  little  Corinne: 
Daughters  of  joy  who  have  not  been  seen 

This  many  and  many  a  year ! 


i 


-**TOifflH' 


m'^:^ 

f^l 


IX    AMDER    LAXDS 

I'm  a  lone  oM  wolf  and  I'w  ln~t  my  pack, 
And  the  w  inter-liir.c  i>  here! 
Wow  !     Hear  me  howl ! 

IV. 

Drink  if  you  will,  and  drink  on  me! 
I5ut  thi^  i^  the  toa>t  I  i;ive : 

Live  hard  with  your  pack  nnd  live  yourselves  out- 
Then  a;k  no  more  to  live. 


^53 


II 


W'ow' !    Hear  me  howl ! 
Fur  Shad  and  Pete  and  (ieorp^e  and  Jack 
Who  took  the  lon.i;  trail  and  left  no  track: 
Oh!  never  a  one  of  them  all  comes  back, 

And  the  winter-liniv  i>  here! 

W'uw  !     Hear  ni-  howl ! 
For  Olive  and  June  a.      white  Irene. 
And  t!ie  >dexican  Kid  and  little  C'  '■inne: 
Daughters  of  joy  who  have  not  been  seen 

This  many  and  many  a  year ! 
I'm  a  lone  old  wolf  and  I've  lost  my  pack, 

And  the  winter-time  is  here! 
Wow !    Hear  me  howl ! 


154 


IN    AMDKR    LANDS 


j 


CHINATOWN  CHANT. 


If  c 


I. 

I  go  down  to  Dupont  Street 
See  m\  very  jjood  friend : 
I  have  something  good  to  cat 
With  my  \cry  good  friend : 
Feel  dambliic  and  want  -omo  fun, 
Play  fantan  with  Wun  Fat   Ilun, 
He  think  nic  jii--t  Numl)cr  One, 
He  my  very  gootl  friend. 


Yim  poi — I  no  care! 

Yim  pr)i — voii  no  care. 
Sometime  good  time  alia  time  maybe! 
Wc  no  care — yim  poi ! 


I! 


II. 

Hello,  how  do,  come  in,  sit  down! 

You  tr.y  very  good  friend! 
Yon  come  best  place  in  Chinatown, 

You  my  very  good  friend  ! 
Too  nnich  ci  ild  and  rain  in  street, 
^'ou  look  -ick,  nic  stand  \(iu  treat, 
Fix  lip  something  good  to  eat 

For  my  very  good  friend. 


'^^tffh^'f 


Ti  ■ 


IN    AMP.KR    LANDS 

Yim  poi — I  no  care  ! 
Yim  poi — you  no  care, 
Sometime  good  time  alia  time  maybe! 
Wc  no  care — yim  poi ! 


155 


III. 

S'pose  you  like  some  extra-dry, 

You  my  \-cry  good  friend : 
S'pose  you  like  some  mo-goo-gai, 

You  my  very  good  friend ! 
Fine  chop-suey,  guy->ce-ming, 
Bamboo->-tick  in  chicken-wing. 
Mushroom  •^tew  with  everything 
For  my  very  good  friend. 

Yim  poi — 1  no  care ! 
Yim  poi — you  no  care, 
Sometime  good  time  alia  time  maybe! 
We  no  care — yim  poi! 


IV. 

Plenty  eat  and  plenty  drink 
For  iriy  \  ery  good  friend ! 
You  stay  here  all  night  T  think, 

You  my  very  good  friend ! 
I  lock  fast  hig  outside  door, 
Have  best  time  ynu  harl  before, 
Sing-song  girlie  come  some  more 
For  my  very  good  friend. 


I' 


! 


•  t«***Mt-««*t*»*l«4 1 ; 


is6 


IX    AMDER    LAXDS 


Yini  i)(;i — 1  no  care  ! 
Yitn  poi — yon  no  care, 
Sometime  good  time  alia  timo  maybe! 
\Vc  no  care — yim  poi ! 


Sing-song  girlie  dance  for  you, 

Sing,  my  very  good  friend ! 
No  more  ncv  vov.  uA  d,iir.Lli'.e, 


bmj 


d  l.-io):d! 


Too  much  flrink  and  v^n  ;rnrh  fun 
Just  enuuph  t<ir  Xumli-r  <  )!;c. 
You  know  ndtliing  when  yn  done, 
O  my  very  good  friend ! 


U  : 


Yim  fioi — I  no  care  ! 
Yim  poi — you  no  care. 
Sometime  good  time  alia  time  maybe! 
We  no  care — yim  poi  1 


if 


i 


IN   AMBER    LANDS 


157 


RRD  LAIT.TITER. 

Glory  be.  the  corner  is  turnM. 

And  we've  given  the  slip  to  tlic  sHm  Hoodoo! 
Come,  M<jriarty,  I  tliink  we've  tarn'd 

The  rijrht  to  loaf.  df>n't  you? 
Our  ^co'     's  paid,  and  we've  nionev  tjalore. 
Enough  .0  la.'-t  ii>  a  moiitli  (jr  more. 

And  never  a  thing  to  do! 
You're  hungry  you  say  ?    Well  I  am  too, 
But  stroll  thi>  way  for  half  a  mile, 
Sure  the  sun  i>  good  this  afternoon, 
Good  for  a  pasty-faced  gosMion, 

Like  you.  d'ye  hear,  Moriarty! 
Aye.  'tis  a  blessed  afternoon 
For  you.  you  prison-faced  gossoon! 
I'm  talking  too  loud?     (io  on — go  on! 

I  know  what  I'm  dijing  I  tell  you! 
There's  none  in  this  town  that  we're  frighten'd  to  meet 

And  I'm  not  the  sort  that  wcndd  sell  you. 
But  you're  hungry  you  say — you  want  to  cat? 
Well,  I'm  at  home  on  Easy  Street, 
And  I'll  show  you  a  tavern  to  your  taste — 

To  your  taste,  d'ye  hear,  Moriarty ! 

******* 

Aw,  take  your  time,  boy,  wliat's  the  haste? 
There,  where  you  ^ee  that  ugly  baste 
Ayont  the  Barbecue, 


.•.♦J»    ».-«4»j»«tti«»».'«J«i 


i5« 


l.\    AMDEK    LANDS 


if 


If* 
in 


ui 


ill 


Where  the  lettering  i^  half  erased, 

"I'was  ,t:;ol(l  wIkti  it  was  new. 
Make  (Hit  that  name  there  if  yon  can 
With  vonr  cock-eye:    Tlw  Black -und-T an: 
That's  it:  'tis  ke])t  l)y  a  Mexican. 

Anil  that's  where  we  dine,  Moriarty! 
It  has  a  loni::  dceiJ-raftcrM  room 
In  tlio  .Mi-si(jn  -tyle  :  'tis  a  man's  rouni. 
And  sure  you'll  like  th.is  Mexican. 
A  fellinv  to  follow  a  lii,du  amour, 
A  picaroon  and  a  trou1)adour. 

Much  (jf  your  stirt.  Moriarty! 

*  +  :i^  t-  *  »  ♦ 

Hey.  .Miguel!     Come  hear  me  tell 

This  lnin,i;Ty  friend  of  mine 
How  tlii<  jilace  of  Nours  is  for  epicures 
Who  like  a  shady  place  to  dine! 
See  this  lone:  dcep-rafter'd  room, 
Half  aliqht  and  half  in  ^looni. 
And  Minder  a  cactus  red  in  hloom, 

Just  to  your  taste,  Moriarty! 
Somehow  it  puts  me  in  mind  of  Yvette : 
>'ou  rememher — little  Yvette  ? 

Will  \o\\  ever  forp:et  that  ni^ht  when  she  trackt  us 
Into  the  old  ."^avoy.  and  cried 
I'or  u-  to  take  her  I'ast  aj?ain, 
And  we  hadn't  the  price — and  then — and  then — 
All  rlfrlit.  Mii-uel.  hv  the  window  here: 


That 


horrible  rope — it  tr,rn>  me  (|ueer 


To  think  of  it  \et — jjour  little  Yvette- 
She  a!wa\s  was  fond  of  a  cactus! 


IX    AMP.I-R    LANDS 

^'l•'i,  iK'cr.  M(iri;irt\,  Ixi-rl 
Tlun  f)r(kr  uliativir  uni  \\\-\\ — a  (Ii>li 

f  >f  cliowikr.  iicrliaji-  a   -nU- ; 
Hut  (if  thiiii^^s  come  far  and  thiiii^s  come  iv.'ar 
1    fancy  ati  cmiun  (iiiK'k'tte 

With  liaccin  i  ii  the  -iilc  I 
Or  what  il'yc  -a\-  fn  a  -leak  Crc(-)Ie 

W'itli  a  ■^Ul■ct  jvitatn  friiil; 

V  111  hkc  tln-r  ihiiii;>  (l(jiic  Spaiii.^li, 

And  it  i-ii't  a  I"rida\  yet : 
New  rai-ins  tlun  and  a  pint  o\  port 
To  finidi  on:  tiicy  -ay  ''i-  j^ood 
To  iron  the  lilood  (jf  a  broken  sjjort, 

And,  they  keep  it  h.ere  in  the  wood. 
Oh  I  very  well,  you  know  your  cue! 
Yes.  that  will  he  all.  .Miu;uel.  thank  you, 

r.iit  see  that  'ti>  hot  and  Si)ani>li ! 
And  now  while  1  roll  me  a  ci^^arette 

Tune  up  that  old  i^n-.itar 

And  -iuL,^  while  we  wait.  Moriartv! 
Siufj  new  <onu;-,  and  .-ini:^  till  \ou  banish 
Out  of  my  brain  thi-  vain  rcLjret ; 

.*~^ure  that".-  what  you're  f()r,  Moriartv! 

Sing  new  soul;-  to  that  old  i^uitar 

Of  thincfs  come  near  and  thins^js  come  far, 

While  I  fori^ct.  forget,  forget. 

Watching  the  ring-  from  my  cigarette 

Rise  to  the  rafter-  and  vanish  ! 

******* 

Watching  the  ring- I     Ibiu  each  of  them  alters! 
Each  of  them  alter-  and  alter- — and  alters — 


159 


I 


.  <,.  «^  t.'.t.'  t4c(«««tt«»«^«f^i  » j < 


}f>o 


TX    AMP.RR    LAXDS 


Iji 


>**irti^2^ 


Mnriarty! — '^cc — they're  s\viTiq;iii<4  like  halters 
fii-t  over  onr  licad-;  a'-  they  chiiih! 
And  after — and  after— and  after — 
Chri-t  !  hea:  tliat  devilidi  hui-^diter — 
Tliat  devihsh  j^urt^le  and  lan,i,diter! 
And  there! — ee  there  how  each  rafter 
Is  red — drii)])in<,'-  red  all  the  time! 

Xo,  no,  Mij^iul  —  I'm  will,  man — I'm  well! 

My  nerves  that'-  all — 'ti-  ])a--ini; — tin-  <pell 

Mnriarty  ean  tell — there'-  nothintc  to  tell! 

Roll  me  aTiother  cii^aritte. 

And  sinij;^,  damn  you!     Sin:^  and  for,i;et 
That  laughter — red  laughter — hereafter! 


y(-  :  f 


IN    A.MDEK    LANDS 


l6i 


THE  MOOXIJT  WHEAT. 


0  love  of  mine!  amid  tlh>  moonlit  wheat 
()f  Ilarve^t-fieI(^  l),,\v  fair— Imw  lily-sweet  I 

1  saw  thee  staml  aii<l  Mi^nal  me  alone 

To  that  untrodden  vale  that  was  thine  own 

On  that  la^t  iii-ht  of  all  that  we  .lid  meet,— 
C)  love  of  mine  amid  the  moonlit  wheat  I 


ir. 


No  thins:  within  that  region  was  astir; 

Entranc'd  I  saw  it  all  as  if  it  were 
The  scenery  of  a  dream  wron.t,dit  to  express 
The  Ionj,Hn.cr  f'f  my  heart,  thy  loveliness, 

And  that  unseen  romance  who>,e  theatre 
Must  be  in  regions  where  no  thing's  astir. 


'\ 


tii. 


Quaint  and  low.  like  some  remote  bassoon, 
Across  the  marsh  there  came  a  mumed  croon, 

And  all  alone  one  melancholy  frog, 

Squat  on  the  htitt  '■•{  a  sunken  cedar  !.\c^. 
Solemnly  did   serenade  the   .Mo,,n:— 

In  tone  so  Ku  and  quaint— like  tlie  duaint  bass 


oon. 


tMHit<ii«MI»M»rt7#f»« ! ' 


l62 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


IV. 


While  in  an  cim-trec  an  oriole 

Trill'd  ,  lit  a  rural  cvensonj,'  that  >^tole 

Tn  drowsy  (■;i'icnce  frtun  the  upper  air  ;^ 

()  Love  of  mine!  in  Lden  unaware 

Some  an_t,'el  slept  to  let  our  spirits  stroll, 

While  o'er  us  sang  that  goUlon  oriole. 


And  far  above  the  starlit  skic^  nnrollM 
A  spell  of  silence,  and  of  things  untold, 

That  seal'd  our  lips;  the  warm  rii)e  wheat,  caress'd 

By  Zejjhyrs  scented  from  the  sultry  West, 
Went  rijipling  likr  a  sea  of  pallid  gold, — 

Under  those  starlit  skies,  so  wide  unroll'd. 


;ii 


VI. 

But  when  T  loos'd  thy  locks  of  yellow  hair 
To  curl  and  shimmer  in  the  cooling  air. 

Past  coy  denial,  an<l  virginal  disguise, 

I  read  the  unutter'd  secret  in  thine  eyes 

Of  all  thou  wouldst  surrender  to  me  there,— 

The  while  I  loos'd  thy  locks  of  yellow  hair. 


VII. 


And  Time  went  by — and  Time  wai;  naught  to  us; 

Only  our  wistful  hearts  grew  tremulous 
To  hear  the  Zephyrs  in  sweet  union  sigh, 


'hy-t^' 


^\r^ 


Kt'    :-       r-i  :-    • 


i'Q  '"*£- ;, 


..*ft-. 


.X    AMi'.RR    LANDS  163 

Wliilc  slowly  in  th^'  fnlnc-s  of  t!ic  sky 

The  lucent  Mnon  lar^ilf  ^ank  aiiK.rnus:— 
And  Time  went  by— and  Time  wa-  nauglit  to  us. 

VIII. 

Alas!  how  now  the  scrjiont  years  unfold 

Shari)  treacheries,  and  i).,n,i,->  unkno     1  of  oid ! 

Vet  once  to  have  had  thee  mine— once  i  >  have  felt 

In  thy  caresses  all  my  hein^  melt 
To  passion's  last  felicity,— I  hohl 

Worth  every  i)ang  these  scrpeiu  years  unfold. 

IX. 

And  oft  I  loose  the  gates  ■  f  Memory 

To  seek  amid  the  tine  erta-n  scenery, 
O  Love  of  mine!  some  vision  of  thee,  pale 
Within  the  silence  <>{  a  mooidit  vale 

Where    none    may    follow,    awd    where    none   may 
see, — 
Beyond  the  darkling  gates  of  Memory. 


I  am  thy  lover  still,  O  Love  of  mine! 

My  heart  shall  never  lose  the  fire  of  thine; 
And  tho'  I  hide  in  loneliness  and  pain. 
'My  soul  shall  hold  her  peace,  and  not  complain. 

Trusting    somehow,    somewhere,    these   arms    shall 
tw  ine 
Round  thy  sweet  self  again,  O  Love  of  miie! 


m 


164 


IX    AMni'R    LANDS 


FEY. 


L'p  from  a  sc.i  tliat  ua*;  Celtic. 

On  a  midsuiiiiiur  iiiijlit  (>f  old. 
A  fairy  ro-c  in  llir  tiin<inliL;lit 

W  licrr  the   ^unoiiiti'^r  \\;itc'r>  roHM 
To  a  craj^  that  wa^  cr<i\vn"ci  with  a  c^^tlc, 

Irrcf^ular,  round  and  !iij;h — 
The  ca'-tlf  hold,  einhattlcd, 

Of  days  jj^oiie  hy. 


II. 

And  a  pijjcr  pacccl  the  ramparts 

In  his  own  clan-tartan  clad. 
With  the  ancient  arms  accoutred 

That  his  father's  father  had ; 
And  the  pipes  that  he  play'd  were  chanting 

()f  valor  and  Flitjhland  jiride — 
To  the  tune  of  them  kinf;s  had  conquer'd, 

And  heroes  died. 


il 


HI. 


Tho'  only  a  lad  conie  twenty. 
He  could  hold  with  any  man. 

And  well  was  h.e  lauL;hi  in  the  music, 
And  well  could  he  lead  his  clan  ; 


i.\  .\.mi;i:k  lands 

Anrl  the  ^^allaiil  air  lif  \\;i-  |il.i\in^ 

Ik"  pl.ixM  a-  IK  \  rr  hrl'orc — 
Tlifti  111-  cta-(.'tl  atvl  (Ire  v\   troiii  it^  -cahbard 

His  I)rijj;lit  claymnrc. 

IV. 

Aivl  111'  waved  it  alnit.  ONultinfi; 

In  tlu'  pmmi-.'  of  (Miniiit,'  vcar^, 
And  feats  of  arm>  and  ylory 

Got  from  the  shf)ek  of  -pears; 
Ah!  the  ^'.iit  <'f  that  jewill'd  claymore 

That  hi'  father's  father  liad — 
'Twill  lie  liandle<l  with  honor  surely 

By  that  gay  hitl! 


ir.5 


Put  O.  niy  r.onnic.  my  rionnie! 

What  sound  is  this  In  thine  ears. 
That  no  man  nor  maul  in  the  castle 

Nor  dnmsinfj  warder  hears  ? 
What  music  around  thee  is  ri-intj? 

What  Orient  notes  unknown? 
O  out  on  the  sea  what  is  singing 

Bv  the  lone — bv  the  lone? 


VJ. 


In  a  maze  he  listen'd  mimovinij 

Thro'  the  long  sweet  summer  night 

To  the  song  of  the  water-kelpie. 
Till  the  mnnn  s^nk  ont  i^f  ■  iglit ; 


Ti 


166 


IX    AMI5KR    LANDS 


And  tlie  kitrlitn  maid-  of  the  castle 

I'miiid  liim.  :it  lutak  *>\  da\'. 
As  tlicy  tlinii-Iit.  on  tin-  ramparts,  drunken: 

J  lo  was  lev — lie  w  a>  fcv  ! 


m 


I 


ii 


i> ' 


VII. 

And  the  thrall  of  a  lordly  amhition, 

And  the  combat  for  lands  and  j.;ol(l, 
And  titles  anrl  trinket-  of  honor. 

And  thint;s  that  arc  l)out,dit  and  sold. 
Oh!  thereafter  he  held  them  so  lightly! 

lUit  aye  a-  he  went  on  his  wav. 
Of  a  -ong  lie  would  he  sinpjing: 

He  was  fc} — he  was  fey! 


\iir. 

The  clu"eftain  of  all  mo-t  s;cntle, 

Most  ready  with  loyal  -word. 
I'.ut  not  in  the  \ear-  did  he  prosper, 

And  he  fail'd  of  the  World's  reward; 
Hi-  kini,"-  rr-ve  hi-  land-  to  a  stranger, 

And  his  lady  wa-  faillile-s.  they  say; 
And  he  died  in  a  hatlle.  forgotten — 

Wcll-a-dav — well-a-da\  ! 


IX. 


Come-  -ninething  akin  to  a  feeling 
That  no  language  of  men  can  define, 

Xo  lo  one  in  a  million  revealing 
It.-  meaning  hy  ,-ymbol  or  sign, 


IN    AMP.EK    LANDS 


167 


But  told  of  in  Sagas  a  -Iden 
Legends  of  longing  a.   ;    veir — 

A  sound  in  a  silence  too  g  )lden 
For  many  to  hear. 

X. 

Moments  remote,  imimagin'd. 

That  conu  and  go  in  a  breath. 
Thro'  the  liglit  of  long  days  uneventful, 

In  tlu'  ])allor  of  immiiu'iit  dca'.h ; 
In  the  fire  of  some  red  revolution, 

Perchance  in  the  tapers'  shine 
On  >ome  extravagant  altar, — 

Some  say  in  wine. 

XI. 

No  matter,  if  only— if  only 

That  sc.iind  from  the  silence  it  brings; 
That  ray  from  t!ic  occult  reunion 

Found  in  the  finish  of  things; 
Unfitted  thereafter,  exalted, 

I'ncaring,  they  pa.^s  among  men. 
And  the  World,  a-  they  knew  it,  is  never 

The  same  ngain. 

XII. 

Once,  in  the  dull  way  of  mortals, 

As  I  lay  in  a  stujior.  I  I'llt. 
As  I  fancied,  the  palpable  portal? 

Of  darkne>s  commiuLle  and  uielt 


AAi«t>*M**M*4ltj 


H**4«tt», 


168 


i\  a.mi;i:r  lands 


Away  into  ^"iniTjlLnt  crardcns, 
Iliflflon   fdfc'vor  from  (la\  : 

All!  fn.m  tlRiii  I  lUAtT  would  waken, 
CoiiM  I  ^tav — ccjiild  1  stav ! 


in 


NMII. 

Could  T  dream  within  arbors  Lethean. 

Where  the  poppies  that  noil  in  the  night 
Have  yielded  at  la<t  to  the  perfume 

(  )f  ro>es  enehantini^ly  wiiite; 
Where  Morphia  lies,  and  her  lore  is 

Reveal'd.  and  her  >eerels  are  told 
In  fra.^'ments  of  fathomless  stories 

Forgotten  of  old  ! 


XIV. 

O  souls  made  tit  for  the  losing 

Of  all  that  the  World  implies. 
Vet  who  tread  not  the  pathway  of  heroes. 

Nor  of  vaints  tliat  agonize. 
What  vi-ion  i<  this  tiiat  you  treasure 

Like  eiiildreii.  until  vou  are  crav'' 
Elu>ive.  alluring  forever. — 

You  are  fey — you  are  fey! 


IX    A.MDEK    LANDS 


169 


IN  AMBER  LANDS. 


Fkacmknts. 


In  a  Iuniinoii>;  vallc\   once   I  awoke 

Ti)  tlic  sound  of  anihcr  lutr^: 
And  I  ate  of  the  l)rca<l  of  a  Romany  folk, 
With  elvish  hcrhs  and  savorv  roots. 

And  I  drank  of  the  inncx-ent  wines 
Made  hy  thtir  maidens  from  mandarin  fruits 
riuckt  from  low-lyinq-  luxurious  vines 

In  the  somnolent  luart  of  the  valley. 

And  the  Romany  folk  have  a  ^imi)!e  creed: 
To  make  with  their  hand-^  whatever  they  n?ecl, 

And  to  live  and  he  kind  in  the  Sun: 
To  be  one  with  the  t;ood  brown  Earth,  and  eat 
Good  things  the  Sun  \v.i<  ^hcnie  upon 

Till  they  be  ripe  and  -weet : 
And  watch  the  flock-  ni-anwhile  that  feed 

In  the  blue  up-lands  ,if  the  vallc". 

And  aptly  cnoue;h  they  sow  and  spin 

In  manner  of  antique  industrx. 

And  tuetal-.  they  luotild  and  various  j:;lass 

Ami  uiiitley  potterv, 
Tauf^ht  by  prie-ls  of  a  f^eiitle  class 


I70 


IN  ami;i:r  lands 


HI 


In  league  witi)  pale  lii.^h  Powers. 
For  wlidiii  tlu\    Iiavc  huildcd  --ingiilar  towers 

In  a  ^r()\c  d'  express  trees, — 
Towers  (if  f,'ranite  and  bronze,  wherein 
Ma^ic  tliey  make  and  medicine. 
Or  husied  witli  their  dim  auj^uries 
The  hollows  of  >pacc  and  cycle>  immense 
They  measure  with  intricate  instruments. 


Hut   I  mind  how  more  it  jilea^ur'd  me 
In  the  drowsy  p[rass  for  lu)ur>  and  hours 
Tf)  lie  with  the  faintly  con-ciou-  flowers, 

I"ar  uji  on  the  --lope  of  the  \alley; 
Or  run  with  the  younj^^'r  Romany  folk, 

So  handsome  and  sturdy  they  he, 
At  play  in  a  forest  of  mai)le  and  oak, 

A-rompintj  healthily — 
A-rompinyf  unkempt  and  all  at  their  case, 
And  kindly  under  the  kindly  trees 
Doiiii^  whatever  and  ever  they  please 

Con^istent  with  courtesy. 


«*« 


Oh  in  vouth  I  sail'd  unusual  seas. 
And  -idl  I  recall  me  lands  like  these, 
Where  they  do  whatever  they  please,  dear  Lord, 
Whatever  and  ever  they  please ! 


11. 


Roaming-  T  met  the  identic  maid 
Whom  i''>re-t-folk  and  hunters  call 
The  Chaielaine  of  Ronzival, 


IN  a.M[;i:r  lands 


171 


Twa'^  under  a  cliff  in  tlic  cvru^ladc 
WIkto  tlic  icy  watcrv  hnh' Ic  fnrth  ; 
In  \(lvft  ;,'rccn  was  -lie  arravM 
After  the  fa«.liion  of  the  Xor'h: 
0  ycntic  mai<!.  for  thy  heart's  case 
\'enturc  with  me  far  over    't  sea>I 

There  is  a  roum  in  Ivnizival 
Rich  with  hnnizo.  .111. 1  panell'd  all 

In  oak  5,'niwii  dull  with  time. 
Ahoiit  the  lancet  windows  t!    re 

Mas'sc'j  of  i\y  climh : 
And  •^ome  few  ro-.  -.      ir  oh  fa'', 
^\'avc  in  the  N'ortlurn  summer  air! 


The  Sun  wa^  -inkuiL;-  thro'  the  pines, 

\\')i!e  I  u,is  -ue-i  of  r'le  Chatelaine; 

Kuddih   iti     l-intin-  line- 

Ihrii"  each  lanei  t   window-pane 

it  lit  the  panell'd  inner  wall 

( )f  that  room  in  Iv  mzival. 

With  it-  hronze  and  (piaint  desi^^Mis 

And   -tilted   ihini,'-  armorial: 

O  j^entle  maid,  for  thv  heart's  ease, 

\'enture  with  nie  far  o\er  the  seas! 


ff 


At  tahlo  hy  a  window--eat 

'I  1k'  Identic  maid  -at  1(mic,'  with  mc. 

And  di\  ly  of  her  coiirte-\- 

She  hade  me  drink  and  eat; 
Out  vi  a  hammer'd  silver  dish 


172 


IX    A.MiUlK    LAXUS 


She  clu)-c  nic  cakes  and  c(tnitU>  fine, 
l-'ioiii  a  twi  trM   llamm  draj^oni^h 
She  puurd  iiic  amhcT  wine. 

O  j^^cntlr  maiil.  nnr  _c[nmc  i-  playM, 
The  (lra<,^<in  i<  calhii<j,  calhnt;! — 
W'hilf  over  tlic  chlTs  in  the  everglade 

The  lonely  water-  falliiii; 
Blatich  at  the  sound,  and  dii\er  afraid,- 

Aye,  'tis  the  drat^on  callini;! 


ill 

I;  ( 


}    1 


v\  ith  chillinq;  hrcath  and  hitter  rime 
Cometh  soon  the  winter-time: 
Ah,  see  how  -lie  has  ^rown  -o  frail, 
Her  form  sd  -li,L;ht,  her  face  so  pale! 
The  hoary  .L;i.mts  of  XiiYelheim 

Will  take  her  craftily. 
And  in  a  \ault  with  marhle  stay'd, 
\\  here  long-- forgotten  saints  have  pray'd, 
1  ler  delicate  hody  will  he  laid, 

C'over"d  with  greenery: 
\\'\  ile  down  the  ragged  silver  sieop 
W'h.re  the  gnomi-h  waters  creep 
SoiTinolent.  soncjrons.  deep, 

With  her  ancient  friends 
Lost  to  thee  her  sonl  shall  sleep 

Till  the  legend  end- ! 
Nay,  gentle  maid,  for  thy  heart's  case, 
A'ent.irc  with  me  far  •)ver  the  sea«. 
And  wc  shall  go  free  of  their  wizard  hands, 
AwaN-  and  awav  in  die  Ainher  1  and-  ' 


IX    A.MCER    LANDS 


173 


'  If 


III. 

From  Mozambique  T  soup;-lit  Zambar 

On  hoard  an  old  fihicca  : 
And  nip^li  the  ^h5sqlu'  in  the  Moon  Bazaar 

I  ^ot  mo  a  chanted  hookah: 
Its  (niter  bowl  was  all  inscribed 
With  f^olden  arabcs(|Ueries 
And  crNptic  f<  >rnuilcs  founded  on 
The  amorous  sonjj^  of  Solomon, 

Or  I'aynim  mysteries; 
I'ut  the  learned  Moulah  whom  I  bribed 

(iave  nie  no  meaning  of  these: 
Only,  observing  the  courtesies, 
To  me  he  ^how  1.  while  the  fire  in  it  glow'd, 

A  manner  of  'akin!;:^  my  case ; 
From  the  worry  of  life,  with  its  folly  and  strife, 

A  marvellon-i  p^ood  surcease. 
And  the  year-  have  come,  and  the  years  have  flown, 

r.ut  the  hookah  still  hath  power; 
And  many  a  -cintilating  hour 
I  win  in  the  midst  of  miseries, 
Smoking  aright  in  the  manner  unknown, 

Observing  the  courtesies. 
For  then — rih  the  soul  of  me  understands 
My  ways  lead  into  the  Amber  Lands, 
A  vagabond  here,  if  you  please — among  these — 
But  a  rover  by  right  in  tlie  Amber  Lands. 


I  have  my  chanted  hookah  still. 

But  now.  when  its  fragrant  Ixiwl  T  fill. 

And  its  dreamful  >moke  I  draw  and  blow. 


■  IfimilllHWWMWlMnn— wiMM— iMi^ 


>74 


IX    AMBER    LAiNDS 


Watcliint,'  it  go — slow — sc 
Round  ami  round  the  carbuncle  glow — 
Oh !  then  I  remember  things  like  these, 
How  in  youth  I  sail'd  unusual  seas, 

And  J  would  a-roving  go. 
I  have  my  chanted  hookah  still, 
But  the  core  of  the  world  has  not  been  seen. 
And  lands  unknown  yet  lie  between 

The  roots  of  Ygdrasil. 
And  what  of  that  garden  Ilespcridcs, 

Forgotten  this  long,  long  while? 
And  the  palmy  cliffs  of  Hy-Brasil 

And  good  Saint  Brendan's  Isle? 
And  they  tell  in  Arabian  histories 
Of  venturings  to  ravish  me. 
And  delectable  zones  of  heathenry 

Down  under  the  Lost  Indies ! 
But  I — I  would  know  of  their  verity, 

And  to  what  each  tale  alludes, 
So  I  will  again  to  the  solitudes, 

And  the  winds  I  will  be  loving, 
And  leave  these  weary  latitudes 

And  for  the  love  of  God  go  roving: 
For  oh  the  soul  of  me  understands 
My  ways  lead  into  the  Amber  Lands, — 
A  vagabond  here,  if  you  please — among  these—' 
But  a  rover  by  right  in  the  Amber  Lands. 


h 


'^i 


IN    AMni:R    LANDS 


175 


VOLAN'A. 


Tlicre's  a  by-road  the  --aint^  fear. 

And  tlio  wizard-  >cik  in  vain; 
Ayont  the  day  'ti>  (|uito  near. 
Yet  the  way  of  it  t>  too  queer 

For  nie  to  make  it  plain  : 
But  we  fuid  our  track  by  the  Zodiac, 

Then  a  body  parts  in  twain, 
And  we  be  Hft  in  a  mode  to  tlie  mere 

Mass  a  niadne>s  vain, 

A  dream  or  delusion  vain. 

Yohiitit  flfjV  a:-ic  ir:-k! 
YuUnia  'i.ckaua  vorf 

II. 

But  what  and  oh !  what  may  the  mass  know 

Of  the  things  that  are  done  of  us? 
On  the  round  hill  wliere  we  jjo 
To  bide  our  time  in  the  pale  glow 

For  Yolana  marvellous? 
And  visions  evoke  by  sweet  smoke 

And  breathing-  tremulous? 
Nay.  the  sound  of  words  may  not  show 

The  things  that  are  done  of  us — 

Remotely  done  of  us! 

YoLina  avic  t/rrV  a'ic! 
Yolana  xckana  vor! 


176 


1\    AMI'.KR    LANDS 


fl 


III. 
A  pjold  <itar  in  the  NW-st  i^IdyvM 
Thro'  :i  ni,i,'ht  i  h-cnrrly  clear; 
'T\va>  the  dry  time  when  the  winds  bode 
Tliro'  the  treetops.  and  the  tree  toad 

Answers  eerily  ; 
The  dwarf  came  with  the  >wart  name 

A-whi»]H'rinir  in  ni\   ear; 
And  I  nodded  aiiil  took  the  hy-road 
Thro'  tlie   niu;iit   o!iM-ureIy  dear 
As  a  smoky-topa/  i>  clear. 

i'ulaiui  (iric  0;  ii'  iiiit'! 
Yolaiui  :'i'l:iiiui  vorj 


IV. 

Where  the  lone  pine  tree  tiin,e;s 

A  rai:;:ed  shadow  down 
We  lifjht  the  fire,  and  the  dwarf  sinews 
To  keep  away  the  had  thinj^s 

That  !.,diniiner  about  and  frown. 
As  we  mix  the  w  ine  and  make  the  sign 

They  made  in  the  sunken  town: — 
Then  oh!  a  glory  of  light  wings 

Bearing  Yolana  down ! 

Volana  (n'ic  avic  avid 
Yolana  vckana  vor! 


But  what  and  oh !  what  may  the  mass  know 

()f  the  tilings  tliat  are  done  of  us? 
On  the  rouml  hill  where  we  go 


j.\  ami!i:r  lands 


1/7 


To  slumhor  in  t!u'  p.iU'  i^Iow 

C)f  ))l;init<  pcndiihni^ ' 
And  Dut  of  the  ski('>  niatfrialize 

^'olana  inarvclloii- "^ 
Nay,  the  soiiml  <if  wuril-  in.iy  not  show 
The  thinj,f->  thai  m\'  ilonc  (jf  us — 
Reinotily  (Unw  <>i  n^  I 

Yulana  a:  I:-  ^l:■i^•  ux-ic! 
YoUntit  zckaini  yorf 


\  I. 
Oh!  the  tuinkhnfT  stones  of  faery 

When  Vohina  conies ! 
All  set  in  tlu'  greenest  jewelry, 
While  the  niap:ie  siiK.ke  ^'oc^  hluely 

I'roin  the  hnrninL;  iiiaj^ic  ijiinis! 
And  we  troll  tlie  chants  in  a  tjhost-dance 

To  the  monotone  of  druni>. 
Till  we  lapse  for  »heer  enchantery 
When   ^'olana  conies! 

Yulana  a:ic  <imV  uriV.' 
Yola)ia  xckana  zorl 


MICROCOPY    RESOLUTION    TEST    CHART 

ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No    2 


.0 


I.I 


1.25   ! 


I. 


[[2.8 

||3  2 
136 


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1.4 


III  2.5 

II  2.2 

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1.8 

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A  APPLIED  IIVMGE    ]nc 

Sri  "'"-■'  £-J5t   Mo>r.    jTfeer 

^^  ihester,    Ne*    fork         14609       ^^ 

'•^^  "'6*    482  -  G300  -  Phone 

=^  '-6'    288  -  5989  -  t^::- 


'l^Sfm^^^::^^0'M. 


1/8 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


UNDERGROUND. 


t 


I. 

On  a  queer,  queer  journey 
I  heard  tlie  (jucercst  sound, — 

'Twas  the  Devil  with  a  banjo 
Tn  a  cavern  underfjround. 

Where  tlic  merry,  merry  skeletons 
Were  waltzini:;  roimd  and  round, 
While  the  clicking  of  their  bones  kept  time. 


11. 

Thro'  a  low.  iron  door. 

With  a  huge  iron  bar, 
A  door  perchance  some  careless 

Imp  had  left  ajar. 
I  crept  behind  a  column  cut 

All  out  of  Iceland  spar, 
And  the  carven  angles  twinkled  frostily. 

in. 

I  was  frighten'd  of  the  Devil, 
And  I  wouldn't  look  at  him, 

Dut  I  watch'd  a  thousand  goblins 
l-'roni  nook  and  crannv  dim 


rjt-V; 


E^SE 


Hi 


■nr.iirtn»*»t«t»»»M»«»a'r«*«n»>m»»««>»mT*vM*«»' 


1\ 


IX    AMi]i:R    LAXDS 


179 


A-fjlowcrinj::^  on  tlie  "-kek'tons, 
And  every  <:;ol)lin  grim 
And  ugly  as  an  old  gargoyle. 


1^ 
t 


IV. 

And  bogles  playM  on  fiddles 
To  lulp  the  lianjo  (jut. 

For  't\va>  ncAliiiig  hut  tiie  music 
Kept  alive  that  erazy  rout; 

But  the  hig  green  toad>  could 
Only  hop  about 
To  the  rumbling  of  the  ba>s  bassoon. 


Behind  the  Iceland  column 

I  watch'd  them  on  the  sly, 
Above  them  arch'd  the  cavern 

With  it--  roof  miles  high. 
All  ribbM  with  blue  rock-crystal,  shining 
Bluer  than  the  ^ky. 
And  studded  with  enormous  stalactites. 

VI. 

But  the  lovely  floor  below. 

With  its  level  crystalline 
Splendid  -urface  spreading 

Radiantly  .^reen  ! — 
A>  if  a  lone.  iini)earl'~d  lake 

Of  waters  subttrrenc 
Had  frozen  to  a  llawle—  emerald! 


♦>>.«**«■»*>»»«<«.»•« 


*»tMi'»*fniU*iiiiltn**l*»**imi»ft*r^tik 


i8o 


IN    AMBER   LANDS 


ll 


vii. 

And  <U)\vn,  down,  down. 

It-  niovvK--  (Ici)tli'  wore  clear; 
And  down,  ilnun.  down. 

In  \\undi-r  1  did  \>'^v 
At  lost  and  lovely  inia-cry 

IJcncatli  inc  far  and  near. — 
Silent  there  and  white  furcserniure. 

VIII. 

But  from  the  sunken  beauty 

Of  that  white  imat^ery 
Lissome  shadows  litosen'd, 

Flaniedikc  and  fitfully, 
That  lorniM  anon  to  spheres  serene 

And  mounted  airily, 
And  broke  in  golden  bubbles  thro'  the  floor. 

IX. 

There,  bubble-like,  they  vanish'd 

Amid  the  wdiirling  crew. 
Yet  left  a  radiance  trailing 

Slowly  out  of  view, 
That  sometimes  o'er  the  skeletons 

Such  carnal  glamour  threw. 
It  flatter'd  them  to  human  shape  again. 

X. 

How  long  1  watcird  1  know  not ; 

The  wcinl  hours  went  on. 
Lost  hours  that  bring  the  midnight 


i 


»♦»•••♦-••••»•*«»•- 


Mt«<u««(M»u««&*«S»>tM*«U*«ariTt*tiV»f«ty-".;^ 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


i8i 


No  nearer  to  the  dawn. 
When  MKMcn!y  I   felt  a  clutch, 
And    ',\iftly  I  \\n-  drawn 
From  out  bi-hind  that  carvcn  block  of  spar. 


xr. 
My  5oul!— a   rk.le'on'— 

A  rattiincr  httle  thinc^. 
Twined  it -elf  a'^'-^nt  m- 

A?  cl  >c  a^  it  could  clinc:! 
And  in  its  arm-  with  horror  I 
Perforce  'ean  circling, 
Compeird  by  that  fantastic  orchestra. 

XTI. 

Onward  s7cr)t  the  waUr.crs 

To  the  wicked  tunc;,  tlicy  play'd, 

And  focn  wc  were  amongst  them, 
And  my  rattlin7  partner  sway'd 

When'cr  the  c^olden  bubbles  broke, 
And  trailing  lights  array'd 
Elusively  around  its  naked  bones. 


XIII. 

A  minute  or  an  hour, — 

Or  maybe  half  a  night, — 
No  matter,  for  at  last 

I  wa-  over  all  my  fright. 
And  the  music  rippled  through  me  till 
I  shivered  with  delight. 
Fascinated  like  the  fat  green  toads. 


l82 


IX    A.Ml'.KK    LANDS 


ill, 


lii 


XIV. 

And  by  :in<l  by  I  noticed 

Hou-  'mid  tbat  ^^ri-ly  :-\varm 
My  clinc;inj:  Httlc  partner 

'Gan  ^tranc:cly  to  transform.— 
I  i-aw  the  bone-  a>  thro'  a  mist 

Of  -omcthin.cf  pink  and  warm. 
That  quivcr"d  and  -rcw  firm  from  top  to  toe. 

XV. 

Ihi^dit  copiKT-colorM  hair 

SiMin  rMi-.nd  licr  head  did  eiirl. 
Ilcr  ni(.r.r,i  -tcw  -wect  \rit!i  tint-! 

( )f  coral  and  of  pearl. 
And  >-he  looked  <  n  me  witii  eye-^  that  sccnVd 

Of  lanibciit  chrys' 'beryl. 
Wiiile  her  body  fair  as  alabaster  shone. 


m 


XVT. 

A  witch  she  was  so  lovely, 

To  all  el^c  T  was  blind. 
And  the  Devil  and  the  Goblins 

And  the  Rout  wc  left  behind, 
In  our  wild  waltz  whirling  on 

The  cool  sweet  wind 
Of  the  lone  lorn  caverns  underground. 


I  I 


XVII. 

Like  ro?p-lcavcs  strewn 

V\>(u  a  crv-tal  tide. 
T  ;i_-p  f]-itctir>_firi\vn  blown. 


Ttk* 


i^yS^iiHi-iuii-a*^*' 


'M«MM4t:*M*t*tM<«Ma«S' ' 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 

By  Zephvr^  far  and  wide, 
Wc  swept  in  aimless  ecstasy, 
Silent  side  by  side, 
Careening  thro'  those  caverns  underground. 


183 


XVIII. 

A  minute  or  an  hour, — 

Or  ma;-bc  half  a  night,— 
No  way  have  I  10  measure 

The  madness  of  that  flight. 
For  the  looscn'd  zone  of  witchery 

Made  drunk  with  >hcer  <lclight, 
Till  we  sank  in  happy  stupor  to  the  tloor. 

XIX. 

Nearby  there  was  a  grotto 

That  opcn'd  chapcl-wisc, 
As  from  a  rich  cathcrlral 

In  sacrilegious  guise; 
On  the  high  Masonic  altar  were 

Three  crystal  chalices, 
And  they  held  the  sweetest  poisons  Hell  can  brew. 


XX. 

One  was  a  liquor  golden 
That  sparkled  like  tlic  dew, 

One  was  a  wine  that  trembled, 
And  blood-red  was  its  hue, 

But  the  la^t  Lethean  elixir 

Was  dark  as  night,  shot  through 
With  glimmerings  of  green  and  violet. 


r:--        '^'^   •  .   ^_*  .  


184 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


;^ 


It^ 


XXI. 

Then  ro'-c  th'    witch  and  muttcr'd, 
'•Or.ick.  f<ir  the  hour  is  late! 

Quick  CTO  the  mu-ic  cea^c^ 

And  the  locks  of  the  diuic;cons  grate 

O'er  the  hort  of  haunted  ^-kclctons 
That  here  brief  revel  make! 
Come  frc'j  me  by  thi^  altar's  alchemy ! 


I*. » 


XXII. 

"Drink  thnu  the  .qolden  liquor 
That  li,t::hts  yon  jrurU'd  rim, — 

That  sparkles  fair  a^  -nnvhine 
Hu  curls  of  serai'hini ! 

Drink  for  the  love  I  uavc  thee! 
Or  drink  for  a  devil's  whim! 
But  pledge  me  to  the  time  that  yet  shall  be! 


XXIII. 

"But  the  gloomy  elixir 
Give  me,  that  I  may  sleep 

Witli  the  white  wraiths  that  slumber 
In  the  dim  green  deep! 

Whore  the  silence  of  the  under-world 
Shall  wrap  me  round  and  keep 
My  soul  untouch'd  liy  any  dreams  of  day!" 


XXIV. 

1  drank  the  cup  of  sunshine. 

She  drank  the  cup  of  night. 
But  the  red  wc  spill'd  between  «9 


MtiMtMiM 


nwni»*i»»»' »«»*»'*«  i»' 


IX    AMr.F.R    LANDS 


135 


For  sacrifice  and  plif^Iit 
Of  passion  that  nui-t  centre  in 
TIic  sphcrelcss  Infinite 
Ere  her  sweet  life  >hall  mix  with  mine  apain. 


XXV. 

A  moment  all  her  beauty 
Was  li;.'htcn'd  as  '.vith  fire. 

Her  f::ir  •.clv.plr.ou:  body 
V.'itli  it;  traiiin;;.  loc^c  atlirc, 

And  her  cye-^  to  mine  did  ,t;low  as  in 
A  sunset  of  de>ire. — 
Then  prone  -lie  fell  upon  the  ch.apel  floor. 


xx\i. 
And  the  white  flesh  wasted  from  her 

As  she  wa-   fiillinj;  dead. 
Her  very  bones  had  crumbled, 

Ere  one  farewell  T  .'aid, — 
From  sight  of  that  dire  sorcery 
In  wild  dismay  I  fled, 
Seeking  madly  for  the  low  iron  door. 


XXVII. 

Behind  the  Iceland  column 
1  found  it  -till  ajar.— 

Tliro'  jjalleries  of  darkness 
I  travell'd  >^wift  and  far, 

iUntil  I  reach'd  the  upper-world 
And  saw  the  morning  star 
PalitK"  o'er  a  meadow  by  the  sea. 


.♦*»♦»*•«»«»»»»»«*»♦♦«»«♦*»«»•-»*•'»•»•*»•:*»«"*■!'*" 


■^'H-*'^viv'?:fJ&: 


186 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


i 


^1 


JILL. 


Doctor,  I  want  to  be  out  of  this : 
There  ir^  no  play  nor  profit  here; 
'Ti-  all  -0  drill)  r(.1orM  and  queer; 
For  thinj^s  outworn  or  tliinj,^^  I  wish 
Life  now  i>  -talc,  now  feverish,— 
1  cannot  sleep. 


ir. 

A  burden  on  my  hoart  if  lain 
Of  thin,  delirious  desi-es; 
I  feel  the  Ha-h  of  eeri-  fires 

In  the  cloudy  opal  of  my  brain; 

I  wish  I  knew  some  medicine 
To  cure  it  all. 


ifl 


ni. 

There  was  a  ^irl  name«1  Jill  1  inet 
\acation  time  at  Juniper: 
And  1  was  like  a  boy  with  her 

Thnt  never  cared  for  woman  yet ; 

I  mind  hn^v  in  the  red  sunset 
She  cail'd  to  me. 


wn.w.....«.««»u«^rt^tw»Hi>r>»iwart«mH>»*w«»f««4«u»namtmMU>t».;» 


L\    A.Ml^KR    LANDS 


187 


IV. 

Amonfi:  the  hill-  I  heard  her  MnR, 
Anil  in  .ylad  nmod  I  went  to  her; 
I  thou^:;ht  tlic  emerald  glimmer 

Of  her  -lant  eyc>  a  magic  thing; 

Some  oddnc^^  in  her  raimenting, 
Some  faj^hion  old. 


Just  a  touch  on  a  simple  gown 
Of  till'  -ilk  <'t  >oinc  i)a~t  tlynasty. 
And  >-!ic  wore  a  cellar  of  lace  ([uaintlv 

At  her  tan  throat:  her  hair  wa-  down; 

Her  lithe  young  arms  were  hare  and  hrown ; 
1  \vor-hip"d  her. 


VI. 

Oh,  she  was  a  wholesome  hoyden,  Jill ; 
The  savor  of  her  lips  to  me 
Was  sweet  as  a  late  wild  strawberry 

Found  large  and  red  on  a  sunburnt  hill ; 

And  I  yielded  to  her  pretty  will 
And  wavwardness. 


VI!. 

Give  me  the  fine  cool  touch  of  her! 
I've  had  my  fill  of  sweet>  and  sours 
With  merry  lovers  of  late  hours, 

But  little  now  my  pulses  stir 

For  banqueting  or  theatre, 
Or  rich  carouse. 


•I  88 


IN    AMBER   LANDS 


VIM. 

To  l)c  tin-  ni.itc  of  Midi  a  hi^s 

Wore-  In  tier  than  tlu-  Ik  t  of  these; 
I'nfailint;  a-  the  field  (Iai-ie.->. 

Aiul  clean  and  con-tant  a.>  the  grass; 

Such  plca-^urc  a-  a  plowman  has 

Give  me  for  mine! 

IX. 

Who  will  may  wine  and  women  prize; 
rd  follow  yru  up  any  Idll 
I'of  in-l  a  1  :nl  of  wat'T.   I'll. 
And  till  riuht  to  look  in  ^"  t  -lant  eyes 
Till  lite  <;ri\v  >troiiL:  and  >ane  and  wise 
h"or  nie  atrain. 


H 


A  burden  on  my  heart  is  lain 
Of  thin.  d'..-lirious  desires; 
I  feel  the  fla>h  of  eerie  fires 

In  the  cloudy  opal  of  my  brain ; 

I  wibh  I  knew  some  medicine 
To  cure  it  all. 

xr. 

Oh.  if  I  could  hoar  her  sing 
A'-  'mono  the  hills  at  Juniper 
I    think   thi-  pestilent   fever 
Woidd  pa>^  like   vap«ir  scattering 
Before  a  breeze,  or  else  someihing 
Be  fine  as  that! 


••***«•«*«•« 


MM 


j'nhiirriiii^^ 


IN    AMUKK    LANDS 


i8«; 


Ml. 

For  oven  jii>t  to  tlimk  nf  lu-r 
Is  {^r.itifnl  to  nil-  ;i-  the  priitic 
( 'ilnr\  I  if  tlif  iii'iniiiii.;  lime  ; 

A  iiifiiitirv  III  l.i\i-iiil«T 

Of  yjuUi  tuot-lw(i-c  III  a  wide  >ummer 
Sill'  i-.  t<j  iiu'. 


I 


XIII. 

Doctor,  I  want  to  In   froo.  I  fjuess ; 
I'rcL'  to  i,M)  uiicc  luiirr  to  Iut 
Anionpf  tlic-  liills  in  tlit-  wliitc  clover 

And  \i(.'l(l  to  her  cool  \va\  wardncss; 

'Twould  cure  inc  of  ilii>  dull  >ickncss, 
And  I  would  .xlccp, 

XIV. 

Yes,  I  would  sleep  with  a  sleep  supreme 
Till  all  that  frets  me  uow  were  i,'onc : 
And  I  would  wake  in  a  youni,'^  fashion 
To  healthy  jo\>  of  I'iH  and  -tream, 
And  no  dame  or  maiil  of  all  I'd  deem 
To  equal  Jill. 

XV. 

For  hand.somc  she  is  in  the  hill-country : 
Set  in  her  sunbrown'd  face  slant-wise, 
Doctor,  she  has  ,t,'reen  j^lurious  eyes; 
Oh,  ii  I  were  only  free. 
If  I  could  rise  of  liod">  mercy 
And  go  to  her! 


wmmmmm 


.t..»..«»»»»^««»««tt«t»«»»««nnw««tm?f*4ff*»«*»«<*>*'****^*'*-' 


I'  * 

it 


190 


IN    AMI'.KR    LANDS 


1^! 


X\  I. 

But  a  burden  on  my  heart  is  lain 
Of  tliin,  (k'Iiri(in>  df-ircs; 
I  feel  the  flasli  of  eerie  fires 

In  the  cloudy  opal  of  my  brain; 

I  wish  I  kntw  M^nie  medicine 
Tj  cure  it  all. 


■^"TIr^ 


■j^i.titi--*m»m)nr»t- 


■IteaAM 


vMrna-  ::, 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 


191 


BROKEN  DAYS. 


I  mind  no  more,  nor  care  to  understand, 
Those  dull  brutalities  too  long  endured ; 
I  only  thought  of  work  as  I  came  forth 
Most  fitted  to  my  convalescent  hand ; 
Of  old  ambitions  haply  I  am  cured. 
This  city  budded  nobly  in  the  North 
Affords  me  refuge  from  an  outworn  land. 


n. 

Somcwhiie  I  drifted  without  any  plans. 

And  found  no  place  until  this  ni;^ht  work  came 

For  words  mispelt  and  letters  gone  askew 

In  the  rigmarole  the  glum  proof-reader  scans, 

I've  now  good  lodging  of  a  .simple  dame 

In  a  cottage  rustic  where  all  else  is  new 

On  a  quiet  street  of  decent  artizans. 


HI. 

I  wonder  what  she  was  at  seventeen, 

This  landlady  of  mine  so  wither  d  now 

With  three  score  round  of  years.    Her  cheeriness 

O'ercomes  her  poverty  and  widow'd  mien ; 

She  treasures  little  things,  and  tells  me  how 

She  keeps  the  fashion  of  her  Sabbath  dress, — 

Her  velvet  bonnet  and  silk  grenadine. 


.  fc.4*»»»>>ww»*>«»i»«CT»»««*y**t«»*4«t*it|l|t>»llW*tnitiUt!HfWilWWf  »t»fWH>1H.« 


Kcr. 


I 


192 


IN  ami:i:k  lands 


•f 


IV. 

Ilcr  cottairc  lias  a  wliolcsonic  atmo'^pliere 
Of  j^oMdi  thyme  an<l  rn<'  an-l  iiii^ivmette  ; 
It  seem-  from  <la>-  too  secular  witlidrawn, 
A  place  10  meiliUite.  or  in  au'^tere 
Clean  solitude  \o  -Uep  an<l  to  forget 
The  inevitable  aclie  of  tliin:-^  for<4one ; 
'Twas  surelv  some  i;ou(l  fany  led  nic  here. 


I      ■ 

Pi 


V. 

My  room  is  hij^h  an<l  bare;  a  window  shows 
A  maple  tree  without  where  -jiarrows  keep 
In  con-tant  pjirk-mcnt ;  the  other  looks 
I'.lankly  "i^ain.-t  a  wall:  that  one  1  clo-^e. 
To  case  my  soul  1  laid  u])on  a  heap 
Of  lonj;  unopen'd  Calvini-tic  books 
The  splendid  contradiction  ui  a  rose. 


VI. 


As  some  be  curious  in  choice  of  wines 

From  wattled  bottle-  and  monastic  juffs, 

Or  crusted  ke.^s  in  ro<;uish  cellars  hid. 

So  I've  been  fond  with  many  anodynes. 

Most  dopv  sirops  and  oblivious  drutjs. 

To  bafHe  pain  and  dnn.p  the  uneasy  lid. 

And  loo-c  the  soul  from  all  its  rough  confines. 


11 


VII. 


Rut  now  to  wines  or  <lru'j:s  1  jjive  no  thought, 
Nor  >eek  relief  as  in  my  evil  day 
When  evil  things  con>pir\i  to  baiter  tne 


Pfc^.p 


"-Jk*-************"^*'"  ">*• 


iMiiiMt 


IX    AMLER    LANDS 

Until  with    -trc^i  nnd  nnL;ui-h  ovcrwrnuc^ht 
i  tliiiiK  -I  vu-  r;inii  :iri  nf  my  brain  .^avc  way; 
1m ir  in  ilio  triivT  i.f  (!ii-  ]iaU'  apathy 
The  pa?t  appear.?  a  dream— the  future  naught. 

\  III. 
In  a  grimy  nffice  "f  the  iKiily  Blinl: 
A  reailer\  de-k  i~    it  aj^rt  i'"i  nir. 
And  thtvf  at  niidit   1  wurlc  fi.m  ei^jht  till  four 
The  waL'f  i>  fair,  with  liltle  need  l»>  think; 
In  automatic  way  unerrin.yly, 
rho'  l)iU  a  nnviee,  I  correct  and  score 
The  acrid  .galley-  rank  with  printer's  ink. 

IX. 

A  cozv  creamc  rie  they  call  the  Star 
At  one  o'clock  I  vi-it  hungrily. 
For  roll-  and  coffee  and  a  1k)w1  of  .^oup; 
The  place  i•^  -potle-s  kept,  and  ii(.)pular 
With  -oher  Hi.i;ht-hawk-  dinin,<r  frugrally ; 
Me  thev  cla~>  there  with  a  favor'd  i^roup— 
Good  fellows  all  as  printers  always  are, 

X. 

'Tis  well  ni^h  dawn  before  T  find  my  bed 

Where  everything,'  i-^  clean  prepared  for  me. 

A  monoplane  of  dreams  with  wins^s  unfurl'd 

I  fancy  it,  the  pillow  'neath  my  head, 

As  smoothly  up  -ome  vast  acclivity 

In  spreadinsjf  spiral  ways  I  leave  the  World; 

Of  it  and  all  things  over-wearied. 


193 


■  «««irti«i«*«W*i»«<t«ti4H 


194 


IN    AMP.ER    LAXDS 


XL 


hfl 


it 

1 


Luxurious  I  slc-cp  the  morning  through, 

Or  lie  awak-.',  inert,  with  kizv  eyes 

Fixt  on  the  bars  of  li^^ht  that"  ^\\p  hetwcen 

The  clo.e  greeii-shiitter'd  uin.luu  >  palelv  hhie. 

And  under  no  compulsion  yet  to  ri>e. 

And  with  no  mordant  tlKjuglit  to  intervene, 

I  doze  an,!  dream  alternatclv  till  two. 


xit. 
And  day  l)y  day  thus  unconccrnM  I  live. 
Forgetting  former  things  that  did  me  wrong; 
Thankful  for  this  safe  obscurity. 
And  glad  for  the  ad.le.l  comfort'  1  can  -ive 
One  poor  old  woman  who  has  lived  too  long; 
Of  late  I  find  her  growing  motherly, 
And  in  her  harmless  way  inquisitive. 


xiir. 
sShe  wonders  much  at  me  and  at  my  ways; 
I  am  to  her  a  man  of  mvstery, 
Because  I  breakfast  in  ihe  afternoon 
I3ut  pleaH.l  .he  always  is  to  have  me  praise 
Her  toast  and  marmalade  and  good  black  tea  • 
And  the  porridge  bowl,  and  her  last  silver  spoon. 
Worn  thm  uith  usage  since  \-ictorian  days 


And 


xrv. 
in  tliat  hour  of  other  times  she  talks- 
Once  tins  cottage  wa.  the  Man>e.  she  says' 
And  the  city  reach'd  not  here  to  bar  at  all' 


mni 


IN    AAir.KR    LAXDS 

The  Minister  from  hi^  Ion-  cvcniiij,'  walks; 
It  vexes  Irt  In  >ee  hrick  terraces 
i\o\v  crouiiin.ir  Vain^t  the  very  orarden  wall 
Where  still  his  sunflower-^  j;ro\v,  and  hollvhocks. 


195 


xv. 

Ycstermorn  with  plaintive  roundelav 
Came  to  our  street  the  hnrdy-tjurdy  man; 
The  wheeling  melody  of  his  machine 
Gave  color  to  my  dreaminj;  as  ]  lav, 
Remote  as  some  Tihetan  caravan. 
Or  marvel  once  of  Marco  Polo  seen 
Down  jaded  avenues  of  old  Cathay. 

XVI. 

The  rudest  music  heard  thro'  sleep  is  fine 
Beyond  the  reach  of  art  or  instruments ; 
With  tuncfulest  hii^di  mastic  I  have  crost 
Over  the  violet  edije  of  lands  divine. 
And  lifting  many  jewcl'd  trophies  thence 
I  wake  with  joy — but  waking  they  are  lost 
Along  the  dim  dream-tangled  horder  line. 


XVII. 

A  wind-swept  common  far  from  streets  and  towers 

I  found  to-day  with  thistles  overrun ; 

The  year  is  on  the  turn,  the  summer  yields, 

The  waning  season  all  the  air  endowers 

With  the  deeper  gold  of  our  September  snn. 

Reluctant  yet  to  leave  the  long-loved  fields, 

Now  mauve  and  blue  with  elvish  autumn  flowers. 


i 


nilLliiiSfi 


196 


IN   AMBER   LANDS 


XV  HI. 

For  inc  what  remnant  fate  remains  in  store? 

Wliat  (lull  or  useless  cndincj  will  be  mine? 

I  count  these  days  dctacli'd.  this  work  unplaced, 

1  know  the  best  of  mc  has  p:one  before, 

And  ail  that  youth  once  promis'd  I  resign; 

But  lone  on  that  allegiant  floral  waste 

I  bared  my  head  to  Beauty  evermore. 

XIX. 

And  ^till  -^hc  comes  to  me,  tho'  I  be  old, 
Livinj^  in  cover'd  ways  and  namelcssly; 
And  still  her  fields  of  amaranth  await, 
And  glorious  across  the  manifold 
Dim  valley>  of  the  dead  exalt  I  see 
Her  azure  gardens  gleaming,  and  the  great 
Marble  towers  of  morning  tipt  with  gold. 


tttm 


miiim 


Mnnir; 


HHiWr^ 


l.\    AMCER   LANDS 


197 


CONTENT. 

But  God  stay?— tho'  all  el?e  fail  and  fall ! 
He  scciTi>  .-omotimes  a  Playfellow  of  mine 
Who  winks  at  nic  and  laiigli.^ — sometimes  a  fine 

Red  Flame  to  ^Icriou^^ly  destriiy:  a  Call 

To  bring  j^rcen  World-  ajijain  :  imnicmoral 
A  M(H)d  that  \vakes  in  me:  an  Anodyne 
To  soothe  mc  unto  Death:  a  Sound  divine: 

A  dim  enamour'd  Silence  under  all. 


Amid  the  jar  of  things,  and  in  wrong  ways, 
I  hurt  mvsclf  continually,  and  yet 
Withal  I  stand,  and  with  fixt  eyes  forget 

The  bitter  iin fulfilment  of  my  days. 
And  feel  my  way  to  Him,  content  to  let 

All  else  between  my  fingers  slip — God  btays! 


i*i 


»4.«#«««Mft*<tt»4vm«t4ttfttlftttHIHtft*i}liifft}Tltr-  l 


Ml! 


II 


iwS 


IN    AMIiliK   LANDS 


! 


THE  TOMB. 

Ami  he  is -lead  at  la-t!    O  Ion- apjc^ 

So  Ions  ago  it  i->  since  VL-terday ! 

Tlic  World  hath  nmkcn  rr.vnd  tnc.  old  and  gray. 
To  .omKl  r,t  cndk"  htanr  ■  "t  wot- :— 
Dear  God.  U  1  could  knnv.-co.ld  .nly  know 

Bevond  the  creed,  and  f.cbk-  prayers  they  .ay 

That  r  mi'dil  find  \vm  y.t  in  .ome  sure  way- 
How  I  would  laugh  again.t  this  Tomb  below ! 

I've  Inst  the  meaning  of  the  words  he  said 
To  ease  niv  h.art  hefon:  he  pa^^'d  from  me: 

1  walk  the"  ruin-d  Earth  in  agony, 
\nd  crv  unto  the  Waste  uncomforted : 

\croW  the  Mack.^n'd  Skic.  I  start  to  see 
His  name  writ  tlamingly— but  he  is  dead! 


^attUiii 


.wtninw MMiiM>Hinii»niiitiiitMn»irt»n»ftim*M>»i»MM4imn« ; 


LN    AMBER    LANDS 


199 


THE  LAST  SONG. 


Lone,  Heart,  lone! 

And  the  Gates  are  barr'd  above! 
O  Heart  with  my  Heart  alone ! 
Love ! 

II. 
Cease,  Heart,  cease! 

For  the  last  red  embers  c^lcam! 
O  Heart  from  thy  sorrow  cease ! 
Dicam ! 

III. 

Still.  Heart,  =till! 

God  s  night  i?  round  us  deep! 
O  Heart  to  my  Heart  lie  still '. 
Sleep ' 


■t^H*    '•  •»*» 


•t«t»t««»«7ff«lt7tttT 


mniii 


.*■<■ 


f 


200 


IN    AMiiEK    LANDS 


NOTES. 


Ml 


U5NES0ME  BAR. 

■•Triple  RoUlen  ycnr-."— (Third  stanza,  fifth  line.) — The 
Klntidikf  i!iiMrii>h'.  the  yrcati'^t  in  lii-^tory.  took  place  from 
1S07  lo  i<;()fj,  diinni,'  whicli  ptriiul  the  Canadian  North  yielded 
:\'<\n   ":w    iu.iidrcil   tndlioii   dnilars   ni  placer  yold. 

"On  a  1 IV.'" -(  Sixth  staii/a.  fir<t  lin»'.>— .\  phrase  originat- 
ir.i:  peril, q-  wtli  ilic  -cakrs  of  liehrini;  St  a,  with  whom  it 
in, ml  an  a'l'  ■\  ii'cc,  ir.  lieu  of  wa^'ii,  of  a  certain  percentage 
I'i  the  \-ilue  of  seal-^kins  secured  by  the  hunters.  In  mining 
I  ,-irlance,  to  "work  a  claim  on  a  lay"  meant  to  have  an  agreed 
peri-eiita!_'e  rf  the  clenn-tip  or  output. 

"I  ni.ish'd  aloncr." — (Ninth  stanza,  fifth  line.'i — Mush— 
im  -li  or  — c'lmipt^on  of  Frcnrh-Camdian  "marchons," — the 
traveling'  wor.'l  fir  men  and  dogs  throughout  the  Canadian 
Nc-Ttli  ai'<l  ,Ma  ka. 

"Snurdo;:ph."— CTwcnty-fir«t  stanza,  second  line.) — E.'-rly 
pro--r>ertnr<  in  mininp  regions  of  the  Far  West  carried  with 
tl'eni  a  !i:m:!  I'f  ?oi;r-dntieh,  in  lieu  of  >Ta«t,  for  making  camp- 
hre.ul.  .iiid  were  duhhed  "snurdotiplv."  In  the  Yukon,  how- 
c,  ir.  t' c  t.  rni  was  generally  applied  to  tho«e  who  had  'ptnt 
11  ctitiT  winter  in  that  region  dnrinj;  the  first  years  of  the 
>;  ild-rn'-h. 

"Mac  an  Diaoul— BeishtaMor."— (Tlirty-?ivth  ^tan^a.  third 
line. )— Gaelic,  meaning  "The  offspring  of  Satan — the  Great 
Beast." 


"the  d.\mo2EL  of  rooM." 

"Tlie  peace  of  a  thousand  years." 
"The    Abbot    gr.ve   mc    inurh    i;-!strrc;i'-n    in   m.'.lters  cf   re- 
ligion.    One  dav,  in  a  d'.-^.^ur^c  on  ft'nc'.ameiiial  virtue,  which 
I  found  difticult.  he  •'■uchcd  at  sciiic  lenfrih  on  the  nature  and 


j^t>WM!^*MMInk*>tt( 


IX   .\Mr.i:R    LANDS 


201 


rondiffon.^  of  n.ll  A,„i  l  rrnKm!..r.  u,  dccnhtn^  tho,c 
r<Kions  nf  Mill  which  iiiuirrlu-  thr  rVtrad-M-  ..f  the  West  he 
Mated.  iHcid-Mitally,  tl..,t  .m,u1.  .irc  <.nly  luo.ed  Uarcfrom*  by 
exl'i,ist,..n  ..f  the  hvi.I.  i.jr:d  cT  d:.rk  ci' MJwi.  that  Uep  them 
hi  re— by  th.it,  and  the  r-.-awakenmg  of  doMrvs.  By  some  of 
tiK.e  dtsirc-,  iJie  m.;jIv  arc  drawn  nui-varJ  to  Earth  asam 
while  thrc,uyhotl,,rv  ninre  ^ub-I.•  and  iinr,  they  pa>s  uito  the 
1  aradiso  of  the  We,-,t  as  natural'y  as  a  b.ittcrtly  ri-cs  from 
the  chrysrdis.  I!ut  luvini;  atiainid  thi^  Mat,.,  .-,n,l  feehng  su- 
preme relief  from  nrrnt  pnjn  and  horror,  they  are  prone  to 
rinnin  inactive,  hecnu-  KtlmrKie,  and  are  >n.  n  .aeio.nie  bv 
the  delicicii-  atmosphere  of  the  pl.ice.  .\iid  i\vj>  they  he 
pe.icefiiny  I'ltoxicite.!  for  a  tlims.-md  \rar>;.  'Ilien  the'r  lives 
end.  I!Mt  the  root  e -euro  of  tli.'Mi  all,  I  v\,is  told,  i^  drawn 
upon  a^Miii  hy  miluence-,  ever  seekiiiL-  occ.iMon  for  iinarnation. 
And  so.  Ill  l.iniliM,  ,i\v.iit;ng  tlie  birth  coiulit'oiu  i|  bv  their 
divers  natures,  thev  and  all  m.innpr  of  planrtirv  life  'rrmiin 
ni  s,,sp,.„-^.,  ]]\i^^.  (,,  ,i,p  clojuN  in  the  skv.  ulrcirawait  nppor- 
I'lnity  for  re;iirn  to  f^artli  in  endless  drops  (,f  rain."— 77i^ 
Teaching  of  Tao. 


F.nv. 

Fey:  literally  "On  the  wnj,"  •'Dcitli-boind."  A  Saxon 
word  denoting  a  Celtic  mood.  One  who  not  only  realizes  him- 
^elt  on  the  ine\  liable  \\;;y.  but  throuKli  some  ii'iuisital  experi- 
ence m  some  instant  if  iinie.  has  u.-,U,  red  !o  an  alii  n,  in- 
explicable K.xistence  that  leaves  hini  bewildeie"!.  to,.Iishty 
inditf(  rmt.  madly  imperM>naI.  to  the  concerns  of  Ln",-.  ^\^[^ 
the  Highlander  the  fnll  meaning  of  the  term  is  not  expressed 
in  either  of  the  foilowinR  passaj;e>.  but  it  Inrks  heiwdn  them: 

"'Ihc  Scotch  peasants  have  a  word  th;'.t  mitjht  be  .ippli'-d  to 
every  existence.  In  their  lei;cnds  tiny  tjive  i-".-y'  t  >  llie  fr.iine 
f)f  mind  <f  a  man  who.  iiot«  ithsiiin.'.irr.;  all  !;is  cjTorfs.  iint- 
v.itlist,in(ini>{  :dl  help  and  advice,  is  forced  by  some  irresistible 
impulse  toward  some  inevitable  c.it.istroplie.  It  is  thus  th.it 
James  I— the  James  of  Catherine  Doiigl.is  — nas  'fey'  when  hi- 
went,  notwifhstatuliuR  the  terribb'  omens  of  earth,  heavi  n  and 
bell,  to  spend  the  Christmas  holidays  in  the  gloomy  castle  of 
Perth,  where  his  assassin,  the  traitor  Robert  Graeme,  lay  in 
wa't  for  h\rr\"—\faHri-c  Mnrtcrliiu-k. 

**A  rnerni3.i<l  hiid  once  met  ;i  pi'^i 


».i.<.«.««»»«»T«^nt»ft<« 


202 


IN    AMBER    LANDS 


k<'i 


tlieri-  --aiig  to  lum  a  Ions,  bright  mid  nnimi  t  s  iw^ht,  so  th^t  in 
the  MKTiung  he  was  fnuii'l  >fnckiii  cra/y.  aiul  fi'in  tlirrrrfor- 
\var<l  nil  the  (lav  lie  died,  said  only  one  form  -.i  wonis .  what 
th»'V  were  in  tin''  <'riRinal  Gaelic  1  cainmt  t.li.  liut  lii.y  were 
thus  translated:  Ah!  the  ^wcct  Mngnig  out  of  the  sea!'  — 
Robert  Louts  Ulcicnton. 


THE  END. 


tf-- 


if  iMmnotowi— 


IU»MMHMMt«»U«tr: 


• ^-.•..^^...".•»«r*ww«*«««rt«M««ttI*rtTtJt«Mi»«<te»»«W*Tr»J^'  -^ 


